


Every Flight Begins With a Fall

by pirateherokillian (Pirateherokillian)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateherokillian/pseuds/pirateherokillian
Summary: Emma Swan left the chaos of Storybrooke behind ten years ago. In those ten years, Killian Jones has embraced the outlaw life that comes with being in his family. When Emma returns, the two will be thrown into a whirlwind of danger and death that will cause them to truly examine just how much being together is worth it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my submission for Captain Swan Big Bang 2018! It's a CS AU inspired by the show 'Sons of Anarchy'. Like the show, graphic violence and language are a common thread throughout the story, as are alcohol and recreational drug use. The topic of abortion is also a subtle thread in the story, so if any of these things are upsetting or triggering for you, please proceed with caution. 
> 
> And I need to give a big shout out to Amy and Kristin for being my support system as I put this story together, and to Ro for coming up with some stellar artwork to go along with it!

“Ishies!” Henry slapped his tiny hand on the wooden picnic table excitedly. “Ishies, mama! Ishies!”

Emma rummaged around in the bag on the bench beside her, nodding frantically. “I know, kid. I’m looking…” She pushed aside the books and games she had hastily chucked inside, cursing her own disorganization. Finally, her fingers brushed against the plastic ziploc bag filled with the Goldfish her son desperately wanted. “Ah ha! Fishies!”

She pulled the bag out with a flourish, causing Henry to cheer and clap his hands. Smiling, Emma pulled open the seal and placed the snack before him. Henry didn’t hesitate to shove a hand inside and grab a fistful. As he started to munch happily on the crackers, Emma brushed her fingers through his messy dark hair, wild from hours of napping in the car.

Her attention drifted up to take in the rest stop they were at. It was a scenic little nook off of the highway, with lots of open areas for dogs and kids to take a respite from cramped cars, tucked away amid lush forest trees that were increasingly common the further north you went. The sight made Emma’s chest constrict with a mix of nostalgia and trepidation.

They certainly were a long way from the city now. And a lot closer to the home she’d spent the last decade trying to forget.

Her phone lit up from the table, the ‘Cops’ theme song cutting through the quiet open air of the rest stop. Emma couldn’t help from rolling her eyes. Of course he would call now, just when her thoughts had started to turn stormy over the tiny coastal town she’d left behind. Her brother always seemed to have that way, making his presence known at the most convenient (and sometimes inconvenient) times. It was like he had some weird brotherly sense when it came to Emma, which was odd considering they weren’t siblings by blood.

“Hey,” she answered as informally as any sister to a brother would.

“Hey!” David’s cheery voice carried out of the speaker and Emma had to pull the phone away from her ear momentarily at the unexpected volume. “How’s the drive? You getting close yet?”

Emma rolled her eyes again. For all the excitement she was lacking in going home, David made up for it a hundred times over. It only managed to amplify her feelings on the matter.

“It’s not.”

“What do you mean?” David questioned, confusion now dimming his excitement a bit.

“The drive. It’s not happening at the moment.” Emma said easily. She already knew the simple response would send her brother into a mini fit.

“Why?! What happened?! Did you break down? Did…” She could hear rustling through the phone and then what sounded like the screen door slamming in the background. She could picture him standing on the wrap-around porch of their old farmhouse. “Did you change your mind? Emma, please don’t tell me you decided to stay there after all.”

Emma considered dragging out the suspense, but decided against it. No need to agitate her brother too much before she even arrived. “We’re at a rest stop just inside the state line. Henry needed a break from the car, and so did I.”

A sigh came from the other end of the line. “Why do you wind me up like that?” David muttered, though she could hear amusement behind it.

“Because you’re easy,” Emma shrugged with a small smile. Henry caught sight of it and smiled widely back, goldfish crumbs clinging to his lips, which caused Emma’s own smile to brighten. “Besides, I’m a bit rusty at this annoying little sister thing. Need practice.”

“You can get all the practice you want when you’re here.” David replied, impatience creeping into his tone now. “If you’re in the state, you’re not too far away now. You could’ve just kept going, been here sooner.”

Emma shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “When your toddler’s gotta potty, you find a potty. Unless you’d like to pay to reupholster my car’s seats?”

“No, you’re right.” David conceded. “I just want you home, Emma. Want you and Henry here where I know you’re safe.”

She wanted to scoff at his promises of safety. Had been wanting to for the past several months, ever since he’d first brought it up to her. Because ‘safe’ wasn’t exactly a word she associated with her hometown. But the truth was, Henry was definitely better off with more than just her in his life. If nothing else, having her brother to watch her, and more importantly her son’s, back was more than she’d had where she’d been.

So instead of arguing yet again, Emma sighed tiredly. “We’ll be there soon.” She reached up and brushed her fingers through Henry’s hair again, and he smiled at her once more, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

\-----

The music blaring from the jukebox followed Killian briefly through the clubhouse’s side door before the heavy metal slammed shut with a resounding bang. The noise from inside could still be heard, but started to fade the more Killian moved out into the late afternoon air. It was a surprisingly cool day, but he didn’t mind that much. It would help clear his head a bit before Liam returned from the current ‘job’ he was on. He really didn’t want to hear it from his brother for enjoying himself a bit with the guys before he was needed.

Besides, a few shots of rum was hardly enough to completely incapacitate him. Maybe loosened him up a little, if nothing else.

Raising the unlit cigarette to his lips, he fished the lighter out of his dark jean pocket, eyes scanning the open space between the harbor and clubhouse. The usual line of bikes were parked out front, though a couple were noticeably absent. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they returned. Liam was nothing if not efficient at keeping the club’s business running smoothly.

Cupping his hand around the flame of his lighter against the wind coming off the water, he took a few puffs on the cigarette to get it going. Once the cherry on the end was glowing to his satisfaction, Killian pocketed the lighter and began strolling towards the water’s edge. The waves lapping against the harbor’s walls filled the air with a peaceful rhythm.

For a moment, Killian let himself get lost in it. There had only ever been two things in his life that had drawn him in and filled his mind with a quiet sense of belonging. One had been the sea. Liam liked to tease that Killian was a modern day pirate, and if he had his way, he’d run the club on tall ships like the swashbuckling rebels of old. It wasn’t a complete exaggeration, Killian often dreaming of seeing a proper ship bobbing against his dock by his seaside home.

The other thing to bring him that belonging… well… he kept his thoughts to the sea these days, when he had the free moment to. At least the sea wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking the cigarette between his fingers, Killian dangled his arms against the fence. He blew out the smoke in his lungs slowly, letting his attention drift up to the stars. If only he could sail away, use the sky as his guide, and forget his ties to the land behind.

Of course, his ties to land wouldn’t ever let him go. The fact that the side door he’d come out of banged open not even a few moments later proved the point.

“Captain!” Will Scarlet’s accented slur shouted from behind him, the moniker Killian had been given by the club as a homage to his love affair with the sea. He turned, leaning his elbows back on the fence as Scarlet stumbled his way towards him.

“Please tell me Ruby took your keys already, O’Hara.” He responded with the man’s own call sign, one that had started as joke when he was a prospect and just stuck.

“As if you’d overbearing lot’d let me leave.”

“As if you’ve never snuck out right from under us before.” Killian countered knowingly, giving Will an authoritative eyebrow raise. The man was only a couple years younger than him, but nepotism was the way of things in their world and put Killian on a whole other level to Scarlet.

Will held up his hands in mock surrender. “Yeah yeah, Red snatched my keys.” He came to a swaying stop in front of Killian. “The club’s _exemplary_ rep gets to stay intact tonight.” His tone was sickly sweet and sarcastic, matching the cheeky smirk that tilted his lips upward.

Killian put the cigarette to his lips, leaving it there so he could use the same hand to pat at Will’s cheek playfully. “Perk up, mate. You know we’d be down our best acquisitions expert should you smear yourself all over Main Street.”

Scoffing, Will slapped Killian’s hand away. “Don’t act like it’s anything more than lookin’ bad in front of that uptight prick of a sheriff.”

He clenched his jaw so hard at the mention of the sheriff, Killian was surprised he didn’t snap his cigarette in half. Ripping the thing from his mouth, he squinted at his fellow club member in annoyance. “Did you deliberately come out here just to piss me off, or is there another reason?”

Despite his drunken state, Will sensed he’d sassed too far. He held up his hands again, this time looking properly chastised. “Just thought you’d like to know Fox is demanding a rematch from the other night.”

Killian couldn’t help the loud laugh that followed Scarlet’s words. “Oh is he now?” He took a final drag from his cigarette before flicking it out into the lot. He slung an arm around the drunken man’s shoulders, leading them both back towards the clubhouse. “And he’s too good to come and fetch me himself?”

“Something about victors don’t fetch or some bullshit like it.” Killian didn’t need to see Scarlet’s face to know he was rolling his eyes.

He laughed again, removing his arm from Will’s shoulder so he could yank the door open dramatically. “Victor, huh? Sounds like the hooch has gone right to Fox’s head, as usual!” Killian made sure his voice was loud and booming, easy to be heard over the usual cacophony inside as he made his way through the hazy, dimly lit room. “By my recollection, I _won_ that game.”

Robin, with his cheeky tattoo of Disney’s hooded fox bandit showing clear as day on his upper shoulder, turned to give Killian a challenging smirk. “That was a game devised under false pretense, Cap, and you know it!”

“I know nothing of the sort.” Killian frowned, moving towards the bar.

“Red was watering down your drinks!”

“Hey now!” Ruby scoffed from where she was leaning against the polished wood. “Don’t drag me into this!”

Killian smiled at her and tugged lightly on a strand of her red highlights that ran the length of her hair at odd intervals. “Well said, love.” She winked and moved away to start fixing him a drink. “It’s bad form to impugn a lady’s honor like that, Loxley.” He turned his attention on Robin once more.

Robin pointed at him. “Fine then! Bring a bottle. Let’s do this right.”

Grinning, Killian turned back to Ruby with his eyebrows raised. “I like how the man thinks.” He said even as Red was shaking her head in disapproval.

“You know Liam might need you…”

With an eye roll, Killian leaned over the bar and lowered his voice. “And what Liam doesn’t know won’t hurt him… or me. Besides, Fox is already half-pissed. A few more shots and he’ll forget we even had a challenge going.” Which was pretty much how Killian had won their last game anyway.

He gestured at the bottle she was holding in her hand. Ruby rolled her eyes and handed it off reluctantly, mumbling something about pretty English boys with blue eyes. Grinning, Killian swaggered his way towards the table Robin had made home, Scarlet now back at his side. The dart board that was the center of their current bickering was on the wall not far past the table.

He gave the bottle a shake. “Proper match it is then.”

Robin met him halfway, taking the bottle and clapping Killian on the back. “You ready to meet defeat, Cap?” He moved back to the table gleefully, pulling the already used shot glasses towards the edge.

Laughing lightly, Killian patted Robin playfully on the shoulder. “Maybe one day you can explain what it’s like.” The group of locals that frequented the club, trying to work their way into being one of the member’s ladies or gentlemen, started to gravitate towards what would likely be a good show. A woman Killian had always ever known as Tink sidled her way up against his side. He wrapped his arm around her easily.

“May the best man win.” Robin proclaimed as he handed one of the glasses off to Killian, before tossing his own shot of amber liquid down his throat.

Killian raised an eyebrow while raising his glass in toast, moving to bring the drink to his lips.

“Killian.”

He stopped abruptly, attention turning to the clubhouse’s main double-door entrance. Standing there, a grim look that meant business etched deep into his face, was Merlin. As soon as their eyes locked, Merlin gestured with his head for Killian to come outside.

Placing the shot on the table, Killian eased out of Tink’s embrace and licked his lips. “Sorry, folks. Captain’s gotta go to work.” He held out his tattoo-covered arms, backstepping his way towards the door with his eyebrows raised.

\-----

Emma shifted the baby bag off her shoulder onto her old childhood bed. Henry was passed out up against the pillows, his favorite crocodile plush clutched tightly against his chest. He had conked out a few miles from town, much to her relief. It had saved her, if only briefly, from her brother’s onslaught of enthusiasm when she’d pulled up to the farmhouse.

Knowing she only had a couple more minutes before either she went downstairs, or David came up to meet her, Emma took the time to glance around the room that she’d once called her own. In their many, _many_ conversations about her coming home, David had brought up that he’d been slowly remodeling the house. Seemed her old room was the dumping spot for currently displaced furniture and decor.

It was one of the reasons Emma had ultimately decided an apartment of her own was the best option for her and Henry. Her brother hated the idea, of course. But as she had told him over and over during one of those many conversations, her coming home didn’t mean she was giving up all her freedom. As much as she loved David, the stifling memories of their childhood home and a slightly overbearing brother were too much for her. She knew coming back meant inevitably digging up the past. She had no intention of steeping herself in it completely. Storybrooke may have been back in her life, but she was planning to stay as far away from getting _herself_ back in its life as she possibly could.

With a nod to herself that was a mix of resignation and determination, Emma spared Henry a final glance before making her way out of the room and towards the stairs. The last thing she felt like dealing with was a cranky toddler and an overexcited brother at the same time. Best she go down and meet David head on for their proper sibling reunion.

Descending quickly in an effort to avoid the collage of photos that still lined the wall along the stairs, she stepped into the kitchen to find her brother and his wife quietly talking as they prepared dinner. Whatever it was they were making looked hearty and homely and for the first time since she’d crossed over the town line, Emma felt a little more at ease. For all the trepidation being back brought, there was nothing like a home-cooked meal.

“That smells really good.” She sighed and crossed her arms, stepping closer towards the oven where something was cooling on the stove-top.

“Lasagna.” Her sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, smiled at her over her shoulder. “I thought you could use something warm and filling after all those hours on the road.” She scrunched up her nose. “You’re probably sick of junk food.”

David snorted. “Emma could never be sick of junk food.” He turned to give Emma a smile of his own, and then laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him.

It was followed by a shove from Mary Margaret with her elbow. “David, she just got back. Don’t run her off already!” She chastised playfully before tossing Emma an eyeroll.

Emma snorted. “Trust me, if it was my brother’s _teasing_ that was the problem, I’d have hightailed it out of here when I was a toddler.” The words were out before she could really think and she realized her mistake the second the awkward silence settled over the kitchen. She fidgeted where she stood by the table, watching the pair try and smile as if she hadn’t brought up anything uncomfortable.

Bouncing in place after a moment, she stepped a little closer to them. “Is there anything you need me to do to help?”

“Oh, no, no.” Mary Margaret smiled at her once more, the feeling behind it much more genuine once again. “You’ve had a long trip, and you’re a guest.” Her hazel eyes shifted briefly to her husband as he scoffed at the descriptor. Then they were back on Emma. “Pull up a seat and relax a little.”

Emma nodded, glancing quickly at her brother who was now extremely focused on the cucumbers he was chopping for a salad. “Yeah, okay.” She turned back towards the table and pulled out a chair, angling it so she could face them. “But tomorrow night, I insist on helping.” She directed it to Mary Margaret, who rolled her eyes once again but nodded in agreement.

Satisfied, at least with the issue of their next dinner if nothing else, Emma settled back against the wooden-slatted chair and started to take in the room around her like she’d done upstairs. Unlike her room, which was more blast from the past than she was hoping for so soon, the kitchen had clearly been the first tribute to the remodel gods. Gone were the kitschy country lady vibes her adoptive mother Ruth had cultivated all of Emma’s formative years. In their place was a more modern hippie feel that suited Mary Margaret completely. It screamed freshness in a way Emma was sure Storybrooke hadn’t seen...well, ever.

Still, a bit of the old lingered about. Most of it was Ruth’s. Her knickknacks she had loved, the nice china that had only come out on special occasions… it warmed Emma’s heart to see her mother’s presence in a place she knew David and Mary Margaret were trying to make their own. The warmth was quickly followed by the same creeping trepidation from before when her gaze fell on some of the mugs stacked in the cupboard just above the sink. The ‘Town’s Best Sheriff’ mug that had been practically attached to her father Robert’s hand every morning was front and center. It caught her off guard to see it there, even now, and she quickly averted her attention across the room. Only this time, the old she found there felt less like trepidation and more like a hard slap to the face.

Even from the small distance, she recognized the picture attached to the side of the fridge by some magnets. Emma felt she would even be able to recognize the photo from yards away if she had to. It was one so etched in her memory that distance, _true statewide distance,_ hadn’t been able to make it go away. She swallowed thickly, pushing up from her chair and slowly making her way towards it.

A dull ache began to build up from her chest when she realized exact why the magnets had been placed just so across the image. With a shaky hand, she pulled the photo down, revealing the face she knew had been purposely hidden by a comically large ceramic cat. Eyes as blue as the water out in the harbor stared back at her.

She squeezed her own green eyes shut.

“I, um…” Her voice came out weakly and she licked her lips and shook her head, willing strength into her words. “I’m gonna go check on Henry.” She turned, tucking the picture behind her back so she could attempt a smile for David and Mary Margaret. They had turned to her at her words, and were watching intently. “Be...right back.”

Before they could question any further, Emma was making her way out of the room and back up the stairs, the photo pressed tightly against her stomach as she went.

\-----

The ocean breeze whipped at Killian’s face, the darkened shoreline flying past on his right, as he continued to trail Merlin’s bike down the secluded road that ran along the outskirts of town. The only light guiding their way was from the moon overhead, but it was a path they knew all too well. It was a poorly kept secret that the club’s less than savory dealings took place out at the old boathouse along the coast.

Nobody cared. Or, if they did, they knew better than to make a fuss. Because despite all the shady circumstances of club business, they were circumstances that kept their little coastal town from being prey to bigger, more sinister monsters. The club had a sort of villainy to it that promised peace.

Well… as peaceful as things ever got in Storybrooke.

It was a part of the life Killian had been more than a bit reluctant to accept. He never thought he’d be cut out for the ‘family business’. In his younger years, he’d been more idealistic in his dreams, hopes, and desires. But life had a shit way of showing you where you really belonged, and as much as he’d loathed to admit it for so long, he’d finally come to understand - the outlaw world was the place he fit better than any other.

Coming around a familiar bend of scraggly bushes and trees, the lone floodlight over the door of the boathouse stood out harshly against the darkness that surrounded them. Even from the short distance, Killian could make out Arthur’s bulking form taking up the doorway. He would almost be concerned by the tension practically radiating off the club’s sergeant at arms, noticeable even before he’d pulled his bike to a stop alongside his brother’s, but Arthur was always tense. And always ready to direct some judgement and a scowl towards Killian.

“Take the scenic route?” He didn’t hesitate to grumble as Killian killed the ignition on his ride and maneuvered the kickstand into place.

Reaching up to unclip his helmet, Killian whipped the safety gear off his head. He haphazardly jerked his fingers through his hair, depositing the helmet on the seat behind him before throwing Arthur a cheeky wink. “You know how the Captain’s gotta make a fashionably late entrance.”

Arthur scoffed at Killian’s use of the club’s moniker for him. “Cocky little prick.” He continued to glare at Killian with the same superior sense of seniority he’d been trying to use all of Killian’s life. “Acting like we aren’t waist deep in shit right now.”

Swinging himself off the bike, Killian fished his smokes out of his pocket and flipped the lid up with his thumb. He brought the open box up, dragging a cigarette out with his lips. “I’m not acting like we’re waist deep in anything, _majesty_ ,” He replied mockingly as he pulled his lighter out before repocketing the box. He leaned in some, hand over the flame as he flicked it to life and lit his cigarette. Returning the lighter to the same pocket, Killian took the cigarette between his fingers and blew out the smoke he’d inhaled to get the thing going.

He stepped up toe to toe with Arthur, tapping the fingers gripped around his cigarette lightly against the patch on the right side of his cut. “And that’s Vice President cocky little prick.” He smirked, enjoying the way way Arthur’s nostrils flared angrily at the deliberate taunt.

“Okay, enough dick wagging.” Merlin sighed, stepping between the two posturing men. “Admiral’s already got this thing going down inside and doesn’t need your usual bullshit right now.”

Another heated moment of tension passed before Arthur took a step back and spun on his heel. “Whatever.” He muttered before yanking open the metal door to the boathouse and stomping inside.

Killian shuddered dramatically. “Oh, so verbose.” He quipped, earning an unimpressed look from Merlin. Holding up both his hands in surrender, he leaned into his step as he started to follow behind Arthur. He brushed at his bottom lip with his thumb, unable to make his grin go away, before placing the cigarette back against his mouth. Making his way into the boathouse, Merlin brushing past him quickly as he went, Killian’s eyes adjusted to the lighting change. He could hear the creaking of the dilapidated dock on the far right of the three-walled building, hidden in the shadows cast by the single lit bulb hanging from the ceiling.

In the pool of light cast by that bulb was a sight Killian was all too familiar with. A couple members of the club standing loyally to either side of their dear ‘Admiral’. In front of him was a wheezing man on his knees - bound, blindfolded, and gagged,

Liam Jones looked up sharply from where he was kneeling in front of the man as Killian made his approach down the stairs toward them. The hard and serious look in his blue eyes gave way to brotherly affection.

“Finally gracing us with your presence, little brother.”

“Younger brother,” Killian sighed with an eye roll, taking a drag from his cigarette. “And I came as my dear brother beckoned as soon as he beckoned.” He gave a dramatic bow, tucking his arm up against his chest as he did.

“Cut the shit, Kil,” Liam grumbled, standing and moving over to him, pushing Killian back up by his shoulder. “My patience is about on its last leg tonight.”

Killian jerked his shoulder away and took one final pull from his cigarette before flicking it off into the darkness. “Hey, you’re the one who said you’d have this handled quickly.”

With a grimace, Liam moved to stand beside Killian. He set his stance wide, crossing his arms as the two brothers stared at the man on the ground. “Yeah, well, I figured this one would be more forthcoming than he has been.”

With a tilt of his head in his brother’s direction, yet never taking his eyes off the other guy, Killian wrinkled his nose a little. “Not succumbing to the Jones charisma and sense of persuasion?”

“Not mine, at the least.” Liam sighed in frustration. He gave Killian a tired look as they glanced at one another. “He clearly needs a more particular approach.”

“Bit of a Captain’s special, if you will?” Killian nodded thoughtfully, stepping past his brother and over towards the listing workbench against the wall.

“You all take this nautical thing too far, I swear to god.” Liam groaned and started moving back towards Arthur, Merlin, and their guest of the evening.

Killian squinted in the poor light, eyes roaming over the disintegrating wood in search of one item in particular. “You’re the one who likes to proclaim me a modern day pirate,” He let out a triumphant sound as what he was seeking finally took shape in the shadows. Grasping it with purpose, he turned quickly and meandered his way over to the other club members. Killian spun on his heel, walking backwards as he moved past Liam and came to a stop next to the man on the floor.

He yanked the blindfold off the guy’s head and crouched down, brandishing the item he’d pulled from the table. Even in the pitiful yellow light, the metal of the curved rigging apparatus glinted as he twirled it before the suddenly fearfully-wide eyes of their ‘guest’

“And what’s a pirate without his hook, aye?” Killian questioned rhetorically in a deadly serious tone before swiftly impaling it into the soft flesh of the man’s belly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has given feedback and thoughts on the story so far! Now onwards to next chapter, which I hope you all enjoy!

Emma tossed another empty cardboard box over the railing of her apartment patio, leaning over slightly to watch it make its way down into the dumpster David had strategically positioned so she and Mary Margaret wouldn’t have to lug garbage up and down the stairs as they moved her in. ‘Perks of being the Sheriff - who’s gonna tell me no?’ He had grinned at her.

Of course one of the downsides to being Sheriff was he hadn’t been able to stick around much longer after that. As much as Storybrooke fronted as a sleepy little seaside town in Maine, there was never any shortage of dustups going on that required constant supervision. A couple of trusted deputies weren’t quite enough to keep the riff raff at bay - particularly the Rapscallion motorcycle club.

Glancing over her shoulder, back across the apartment, Emma peered out the front door Mary Margaret had propped open to let the sea breeze keep the place cool. It wasn’t possible to see from where she stood, but she could feel its presence all the same - the M.C.’s club house a few blocks from where she was making her new home. It had been yet another sticking point in the continued argument between her and her brother over Emma simply not just taking up residence in the farm house.

_“You can’t be serious, Emma!” David grumbled when she’d finally revealed the apartment she’d selected as her and Henry’s new home._

_Emma returned the heated glare he was throwing her way. “I can and I am.” She gestured around the den of the farmhouse they were currently sitting in as they argued some more about what was and wasn’t good for her life. “I_ **_can’t_ ** _stay here.”_

_“You could.” David interrupted stubbornly._

_She rolled her eyes. “_ ** _No._** _No matter how hard you try to remodel it away, all the history… all the_ ** _shit_** _is still ingrained into this place, and I… I can’t do it. I can’t.”_

_David sat forward on the couch, uncrossing his arms and jabbing his finger against the unsigned lease sitting on the table between them. “You wanna talk about history?” His blue eyes were desperate, imploring with her not to do what she was planning. “You are putting yourself right back in the middle of hostile waters. The club operates no more than a handful of blocks from this complex, Emma!”_

_“I know that, David!”_

And she did know. She knew better than anybody where the club operated from, and what they did, and why placing herself and her son where she planned to seemed to go against everything she had expressed she was trying to avoid. But Emma’s options were limited. It was either stay in the place she’d grown up, something she couldn’t stomach the idea of any more, or stay in town and find an apartment. And no matter where in town she stayed, the club wouldn’t be too far away.

It would sound crazy to pretty much every normal person that called Storybrooke home. It clearly sounded absurd to David, and Emma was sure Mary Margaret wasn’t all too thrilled with the idea either. But it had been the decision she made. Whether or not it would be added to the very long list of poor decisions she’d made in her life remained to be seen.

“Mama?” Henry’s inquisitive voice pulled Emma from her thoughts and brought her attention down to the toddler standing on the other side of the baby gate she’d set up to keep him from wandering out onto the patio. His brown eyes stared up at her widely, chubby fingers gripping around the wiring of the gate. “Hunry?”

She frowned and pulled her phone out of her back pocket, bringing the screen to life. It showed that it had gotten far later than she realized. “Oh kid, I’m sorry.” Emma sighed, repocketing her phone and hastily bending to grab the remaining trash at her feet. She threw it over the railing like the box before, this time not bothering to watch it fall. Stepping over the gate, she knelt down in front of her son, who pouted at her pathetically.

“Mama didn’t know it was so late.” She apologized with a tender brush of her fingers through his hair. “I bet you’re all ready for some dinner, huh?”

Henry nodded enthusiastically at that, pout falling away. “Yeah!”

Smiling, Emma scooped him up into her arms. He wrapped his own around her neck as she moved to stand. She maneuvered Henry onto her hip so she could work the mechanism that held the baby gate in place. As it released, she grabbed it from the top and set it off to the side, turning back to the glass door to slide it closed. “Well let’s see if we can’t rustle up some grub for the growing urchin.”

It was a giggle Henry gave her this time, slapping at her shoulder. “Yeah!” He cheered again.

Blowing a raspberry against his cheek, Emma carried him towards the kitchenette. She began to rummage through the boxes on the counter, intent on finding the one that she knew David and Mary Margaret had meticulous packed with supplies suitable for a meal decent enough for her and Henry. When her searching produced only her mismatched dishware and some cleaning supplies, she frowned.

“Hey Mary Margaret?” She called out over her shoulder before reaching up to pull open cabinets.

Her sister-in-law emerged from down the hall, a little pair of Henry’s jeans in her grasp. “Yeah?”

Emma turned towards her, hand still on the handle of a cabinet. “Where did you put all the stuff from the food box?”

Frowning, Mary Margaret moved in closer. “I didn’t put the food away.” She gave a shake of her head.

“Well, it’s gotta be here somewhere.” Emma muttered. Turning, she carried Henry back into what would probably be considered the living room and started searching the few boxes that remained there. “There was definitely a box a food.”

Mary Margaret placed the jeans onto the counter beside the boxes Emma had already searched and began peering through them herself. “There was.” She let out a huff of air the same time Emma’s own perusal came up empty. “Maybe we left it in the car?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Emma dropped her head back. “No, I made sure the car was empty earlier.” She whined and fidgeted in place.

It caused Henry to feel encouraged to whine too. “Hunry, mama!” His tone was a fraction harsher than it had been before, as if it was wrong of Emma to forget that he was in desperate need of food.

“I know, Henry.” Emma sighed and then stomped her foot. “Shit!”

“Bad word, mama.” Henry mumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

She couldn’t resist the urge to glare back.

“Okay, okay…” Mary Margaret quickly made her way over to pair and reached to take Henry from Emma’s grasp. “Let’s not have a mommy/toddler meltdown our first night in the new apartment.” She soothed, bouncing Henry a little to stop what was clearly an impending tantrum. “It’s not the end of the world. We probably just left the box back at the farmhouse.”

Emma paced away from them and threw her hands in the air. “Yeah, that’s on the complete other side of town.” She nearly shouted. She turned and gestured towards her son. “And he’s about to blow a gasket and…” She felt the tears welling up and she really hated it. She knew she was overreacting, but it felt like the complete lack of food for her child in the apartment was the first sign that things were already falling firmly into the poor decision category.

Mary Margaret closed the distance Emma had made between them and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s been a long, exhausting day.” She rubbed up and down lightly. “I think we’re all a little cranky, right?” Her hazel eyes turned on Henry, who rubbed at his nose. He too had started to cry when Emma had. “But this is a problem easily fixed.”

Looking back to Emma, Mary Margaret gave her an encouraging smile. “You’ve always got snacks for Henry in his baby bag, right?” At Emma’s nod, she nodded in kind. “Okay, well… why don’t Henry and I have a little snack picnic here,” She took the hand off of Emma’s shoulder to tickle at Henry’s stomach. He giggled at the contact. “While Mama,” Her attention returned to Emma. “Heads to the store and picks up all the things she knows make the best dinners?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed, wiping at her eyes furiously. “Yeah, I think that sounds like a good idea.” She smiled as she looked to Henry. “You okay with that, kid?”

Henry nodded. “Yeah.”

“Alright.” Emma nodded back and then glanced at Mary Margaret, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before laying a kiss against Henry’s cheek.

\-----

The brick was still warm at Killian’s back, even as the sun was starting to set on Storybrooke for the day. He stood leaning against the side of the market, his bike parked no more than a couple feet away, taking the last few pulls from his cigarette before he headed inside. He had figured he’d stop in for a few things before heading home for the night. It wasn’t often he got a chance to have an evening all to himself, away from the club and all the obligations that came with it.

But he’d been a regular entrepreneur in regards to club affairs of late and Liam had felt Killian should take a little time to himself. Clear his head and whatever bullshit Liam thought he needed when he was clearly starting to take a little too much enjoyment in the seedier side of their life.

' _Being an outlaw is a balance, little brother. Never too much in either direction.’_

Killian snorted at his brother’s warped sense of honor and balance. Liam always considered family duty, and loyalty to what had been built and handed off to them, the most moral of compasses. It wasn’t so much the good balancing out the bad as it was the thrill in running beyond the law never overshadowing that club came first. Even the most enthusiastic advances in the name of the club needed to be checked and balanced and talked out amongst the members.

And Killian had been a little rogue of late. It didn’t make it an easy atmosphere - Liam’s need to keep a balance and Killian’s desire to stick it hard to those who were trying to undercut them - both on the verge of clashing.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d been more pedal to the metal about going after their adversaries. It hadn’t been anything specific. No outward change, as far as Killian could tell, that would usually be his driving force for his actions. Things were as they always had been between the club and their rivals, most notably the development company owned by the most powerful man in their state. In all the years the club had gone head to head with the company, they’d never been able to determine the real name of the man who owned it. All anybody ever knew him as was Mr. Gold.

For whatever reason, in the past couple weeks, Killian’s desire to stick it to Mr. Gold and Gold Business Developing had grown exponentially. It felt almost instinctual, the need to cause the man and his money-making, power-taking schemes strife.

Liam wasn’t all too happy with Killian’s ‘instinct’ to cause mayhem.

Which is how he’d ended up benched for the night while Fox and the others were off pushing the illegal wares the club made the bulk of its money from.

Killian found he couldn’t really complain too much about it. As much as it pained him to admit, even to just himself, Liam was the club’s president and had far better instincts when it came to running its endeavors smoothly. Liam’s mind for leadership kept the Rapscallion Rogers afloat, metaphorically speaking. Killian was more the rough and tumble end of things, the Jones son not afraid to get his hands dirty in the name of the club.

They’d been _too_ dirty of late and Killian wasn’t too cocky to be blind to it.

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, he rubbed out the lit end with the tip of his boot. Blowing out the remaining smoke from his final drag, he pushed off the wall and finally moved to head inside. His plan was to pick up a couple things for dinner, make his way to his home on the coast, and take an overdue look at the extensive research he’d started putting into getting himself that boat some time back.

It all came to a grinding halt, quite literally, as he rounded the corner of the brick wall and collided straight into another. He reached out on instinct, hands coming up to take hold of the person to steady them while their several bags of groceries slammed to the ground upon impact.

“Apologies, lass,” he offered sincerely, taking in the woman’s form as he moved his gaze up her body to take in her face. “I didn’t see-” His words died abruptly on his tongue as familiar green eyes stared back at him.

“E-Emma?” He barely managed to get her name out on a whisper, yet it caused them both to stiffen as it haltingly escaped past lips. He couldn’t stop himself from gaping at what essentially felt like a ghost standing before him.

Eyes going wide as she realized just who she’d run into, Emma’s mouth fell open as well. Otherwise, she was rendered seemingly frozen by the abrupt encounter. Killian searched her gaze, caught in a state of bewilderment. Slowly, as what had just happened settled in, he saw trepidation and reluctance begin to look back at him.

It caused his befuddlement to quickly morph into irritation.

“Emma…” He said warningly, understanding in an instant what was about to happen. It was the same thing that had happened over a decade ago that had arguably been the most impactful moment of his entire life.

She was running.

“Killian…” She breathed, stumbling over her dropped groceries to quickly move out of his hold. “I… I’m sorry.” She gave a minute shake of her head before turning abruptly on her heels and making a beeline for a yellow bug on the far side of the parking lot.

“Emma!” Killian took a few steps after her, then decided against it as the anger and pain from all the years prior came roaring back to life. He clenched his fist tightly, looking to the darkening sky. “Fuck!” He shouted angrily before turning much like Emma had and stalking his way inside the store.

\----

Her hands shook as she raised the cigarette she’d bummed off her neighbor to her lips. It had been years since she’d had one, but Emma felt it was more than justified tonight. The truth was, she was craving something a little stronger, a little more mind numbing, than just a hit of nicotine could provide. But her son was asleep upstairs in the apartment and as much as she felt like a fuck up all of a sudden, she wasn’t about to go and prove it by _getting_ fucked up around him. She was still responsible for her kid’s well being.

It had been hours since the unplanned reunion with Killian Jones, prodigal Rapscallion son, and she was still reeling from the impact of it. Digging up the past had been on her mind ever since her and David had first started talking about her returning home. And right at the top of the list had been Killian. He had simultaneously been the biggest reason for her to stay away _and_ for her return. To Emma Swan, Killian  _was_ Storybrooke.

He was the living, breathing embodiment of everything that made the town what it was. It was home and heartbreak, danger and devotion. He was both the cure and the poison and every little thread of happiness and pain that tied Emma back to this place she had willingly brought herself back to.

She had known the past would come back eventually. She had known  _he_ would come back eventually. She had gone over and over and over in her head how it would all possibly play out. It was an inevitable outcome. There was zero chance of her returning to Storybrooke and _not_ having Killian end up in her life somehow. It had been expected.

And yet she’d still been thrown, almost quite literally, by his abrupt return to her orbit. And in that completely sudden reacquaintance with the man that had always been the most of everything she’d ever had, she’d found herself falling back on the one tried and true way she knew to make him nothing.

_She’d ran._

Panic had taken a hold of her and before she could really comprehend much of anything else, Emma had been back in her car and pulling out of the parking lot, Killian’s scream through the air shooting straight to her heart as the breeze carried it through her open window. A couple blocks down, she’d pulled off to the side and managed to shoot a message off to Mary Margaret.

 _‘Take Henry to Granny’s for dinner,’_ she’d typed into her phone as tears had started to blur her vision. Mary Margaret had of course inquired as to why, and Emma had been grateful to her sister-in-law who had taken her reply of _‘please’_ to heart. When she’d gotten back to the apartment, it was empty and quiet and she was able to lock herself in the bathroom for a truly good sobfest before they returned.

Mary Margaret hadn’t been blind to the torment Emma had heroically tried to hide from her son, but still seemed to sense her need to not talk about it then. She’d left quietly, a kiss to Emma’s cheek a clear indicator that they _would_ be discussing it later. Emma had nodded wordlessly, and gone about getting Henry ready for bed.

On her way out the front door to the steps she still currently found herself on, right leg bouncing a nervous rhythm on an endless loop, she’d snagged the photo she’d swiped from her brother’s house when she’d first arrived back to town.

Looking down at it now resting on her left knee, taking another shaky pull from the cigarette, Emma lightly brushed her thumb over the image. Killian was smiling wide, his gaze bright for the camera as he leaned in close to Emma for the picture. His arm, she remembered, had been wrapped around her back and reaching out to her brother on the other side of her. She was sandwiched between the two most important guys in her life, the three of them looking as carefree as any pre-teens could, even despite all that had gone on in their lives up to that point.

She felt the tears start to burn behind her eyes as she took in Killian’s staring back at her from the glossy paper. The love and happiness and hope she saw there in the past certainly hadn’t been there in the present. There had been bewilderment and loss and… a hardness to his eyes that seemed to go right along with the physical changes she’d managed to pick up on in the brief encounter they’d had.

Killian Jones had grown up and had grown resentful. She’s seen it the moment before she’d turn and ran.

And it was her fault.

Frustrated with herself, Emma angrily flicked her cigarette down the stairs and rose. She trudged her way back upstairs, the photo gripped tightly in her hand, while the tears finally started to fall once again. The urge to slam the door to her apartment was strong as she stepped inside, but Henry sleeping down the hall stopped her. Instead, she quietly eased it shut and rested her forehead against it while a sob escaped.

_‘Definitely a poor decision category day.’_

With a quiet growl, in complete contrast to her tearful outburst a moment before,  she pushed off the door. The trash can pushed up against the tiny bit of wall separating the entryway from the kitchen caught her attention and she stopped in front of it. She cast one last look at the photo in her hand before releasing it, watching it flutter its way into the can.

\-----

Footsteps. There were footsteps, he was almost sure of it. Not only could he just make out the sound of them over the crashing of the waves against the dock, but he could feel them reverberating through the wood under his back. That, or it was the half a fifth of rum and undetermined amount of pot currently coursing through his system that was making him have some really mundane hallucinations.

Killian squinted one eye shut as he continued to stare up at the stars, the shifting and swaying white specs that they were at the moment, and inhaled deeply yet against from the blunt gripped between his thumb and forefinger. As he exhaled the skunky smoke, the hazy imagine of his younger brother came into view right above him.

“Not a hallucination then.” He mumbled, turning his head to the side to stare out towards the water. When his brother said nothing, just continued to stare down at him, Killian looked back up with a scowl. “What, Lee? What do you want?”

The younger of the two brothers with the same name shrugged. “I don’t want anything, Cap.” He frowned slightly, as if reconsidering his words. “Well… okay.” He stepped around Killian and lowered himself down to the dock beside him. “I don’t wanna get in trouble with the Admiral, who sent me to-”

“Babysit.” Killian quipped, slowly pushing himself up. He fell into Lee for a moment as the change in position threw off his precarious center of gravity, but quickly corrected.

“No, not babysit,” Lee countered.

Killian snorted. “Listen, prospect. I know our dear older brother didn’t trust me not to go off and cause some ruckus somewhere tonight, so he sent you out here to keep an eye on me. Only I came out here fuck knows how long ago and well… it’s hard to babysit when you don’t know where the bloody baby is.” He took another hit from the blunt. “Even when _technically_ the baby is the one doing the babysitting

“Damn, man.” Lee chuckled uncomfortably. “How wasted are you?”

“Not bloody enough.” Killian mumbled, waving with his free hand towards what he assumed was the direction of edge of the dock to their right. “My rum decided to become its own message in a bottle before I’d finished.”

There was a pause where the only sound filling the air was the waves.

Then Lee nudged him with his shoulder. “You alright?”

“Is that the prospect or the brother asking?” Killian raised an eyebrow and glanced at the younger man. At the incredulous look Lee gave in return, Killian sighed, feeling himself deflate a little. “I…” He licked his lips and looked down to his lap. “I ran into Emma today.”

Lee shifted next to him. “Emma? As in Swan?”

“Yes, what other bloody Emma do you think I’d be talking about?!” Killian snapped and then let out a frustrated growl. “Sorry.” He ran his free hand through his hair, stopping midway to let it rest in the messy strands. He brought the blunt to his lips and inhaled. “Yeah, Emma Swan. Right there at the grocery store. Like she hadn’t even bloody left. But of course she did leave…” He removed his hand from his hair and waved it erratically. “And then left again, while being right bloody there again.”

Taking the joint from Killian’s hand, Lee made sure to hold it off to the side so his brother couldn’t grab for it again. “Okay, you’re rambling.”

“No shit, Liam.” Killian laughed, though there was no humor to it. He flopped back down onto the dock and covered his eyes with his right arm. “I ran into the love of my fucking life not even a few hours ago and I’m drunk and stoned and…” He left out a short breath, frowning and shaking his head. His arm flopped down onto the dock, brushing against his brother’s leg. “Why did she bloody come back?”

“You didn’t talk to her?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, running his hand down his face, Killian shrugged helplessly. “Did you not hear the part where I said she just _ran_.” He mumbled from behind his palm.

Lee appeared to give him a wide-eyed look. “Oh, you meant she literally ran away from you today.” He held up his free hand when Killian threw him a look of impatience. “Sorry, Kil. You’re really blasted and aren’t making a lot of sense right now.”

Groaning, Killian nodded. “I know. I’m bloody wrecked. Again. Over the damn Swan girl. Just like bloody always.” He whispered in anguish. “I was just planning to enjoy my night on the bench, thanks to our brother, and then, _bam_ ,” He slapped his hands together, causing Lee to flinch in surprise. “There she was, outside the market, her groceries rolling around at our feet…” He trailed off as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Struggling back into a seated position once more, with Lee’s hand under his elbow for assistance this time, Killian gave his younger brother a pleading look. “I need you to do something for me.”

Lee tilted his head to the side. “As a brother or as a prospect?”

“Liam, please,” Killian sighed, using the younger man’s full name. “I would go myself, but...” He gestured vaguely to the joint that had burnt out in Lee’s hand, than at himself. Lee continued to stared at him questioningly. “Please?”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Lee finally nodded. “Yeah, okay…” He gave Killian a gentle pat on the back. “What do you need, Cap?”

\-----

Emma pushed her way through the glass doors engraved with the seal of the Storybrooke Sheriff, feeling her anxiety growing with each passing second. Much like the farmhouse, the building she now found herself slowly making her way down the main hallway of was filled to the brim with history of her formative years. As much as she wished she couldn’t, it was impossible for her mind not to conjure all the memories of the numerous times her adoptive father had marched her down this hallway.

She felt she was doing the perp march once more as she continued. It was hard not to when you get a call from the Sheriff asking you to come in about something. She’s not sure it if was better or worse that the Sheriff was now her brother and that he’d sounded less than enthused on the phone. In her gut, she had a sneaking suspicion that David had heard about her run in with Killian the night before.

She hadn’t fully had a chance to even process it herself yet and here she was, feeling like she was on her way to the executioner. All because Storybrooke was a town of _no_ secrets whatsoever and some nosy nobody had seen the daughter of the former Sheriff and the son of the former Rapscallion Rogers president mingling once more. It didn’t matter that the ‘mingling’ had been nothing more than a chance encounter and involved her making as quick an exit from his presence as she possibly could. Nope. All that mattered was it was Killian and Emma.

And that was a problem. For everyone. But especially David Nolan.

Passing out of the hallway and into the central area of the station, Emma took a moment to compose herself. Again just like the farmhouse, the place where cops, lawbreakers, and outlaws were most likely to cross paths outside of Granny’s had gotten an upgrade. It was newer, sleeker, more sophisticated than Emma had ever imagined it could be. While there was still only the handful of deputy desks taking up what was commonly considered the bullpen in bigger police establishments, each one was adorned with fancy new computers. It was clear whatever bug had gotten up David’s ass about remodeling at home had bled over into his workspace.

“Emma, hey!” Graham Humbert called to her from one of the upgraded desks, waving at her with a friendly smile when she looked his way. She moved in the direction of where he was sitting. “I’d heard rumor the infamous Swan was back in our little duck pond, but hadn’t seen a single sign of it actually being true until now.” As she stopped in front of his desk, he stood from his chair. “Was beginning to wonder if Dave had been getting into his own wine stock again.”

Despite her trepidation of being there, Emma couldn’t help but offer a smile to her and David’s long time friend. “It’s good to see you, Graham.” She accepted the hug he leaned in to give her over the desk. “And just because I’m actually here doesn’t mean David’s not getting into his stock.”

“Isn’t that the damn truth.”

Emma pulled back from Graham to see August Booth, the other of Storybrooke’s two deputies, making his way over to them. He wore the same welcoming grin Graham had, and his hug for Emma was just as tight and affectionate as the first man’s had been.

“David likes to act all high on his horse now that he’s the Chief, but he forgets,” August leaned in conspiratorially, though his voice was loud enough to be heard clear across the bullpen. “We’ve all spent our time side by side in that drunk tank more than a handful of times.”

Emma snorted, nodding in remembrance of her own underage escapades.

“August!” David’s voice carried as easily as Booth’s had through the room and the trio glanced up to find Storybrooke’s Chief leaning casually in the doorway to his office. His hand was resting lightly on his holstered pistol, and he was shooting his deputy a knowingly look. “I’m sure there is some trouble you can go sniff out in this town somewhere.”

“Yeah, Chief. I’m on it.” August grumbled before turning and giving Emma an eyeroll. She giggled and let him place a kiss against her cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Emma.”

She nodded as he brushed past her. “Yeah, you too.” By the time she was done watching him make his exit from the building and was turning back to Graham, David had made his way over to where she stood.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You finished with that missing persons file yet, Humbert?”

Graham shook his head. “Not yet, Chief.” He returned to his seat, leafing through the chaos of papers stacked all over the surface of his desk. “You know how Gold is about his employees.” He looked up to pass an exasperated look of exhaustion between David and Emma. “Like he knows every damn detail about their lives and is the keeper of all their secrets.”

David pointed a finger at Graham. “Hey, don’t go knocking Gold Business.” He gestured to the fancy screen Emma had made a mental note of earlier. “He’s the reason we got all this new tech, which he’s expecting us to use to find that guy.” David placed the gesturing hand on Emma’s back, slowly maneuvering her away from Graham’s desk. “So find him, please. Before I have to get another call from Belle on Gold’s behalf.”

Allowing herself to be led in the direction of David’s office, Emma shot him a confused look as they walked. “You’re looking for somebody?” She asked as they made it to the doorway. David gestured for her to go in first and she did, but turned to watch him as he closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, some lackey of Gold’s that apparently went missing some weeks back.” David answered dismissively. He moved around her and his desk, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Actually, he seems to have gone missing the night you first got to town.” His tone was curious, the head tilt as he pulled his chair up from behind to place himself in matching the tone.

Emma lowered herself into one of the chairs opposite her brother. “Oh...that’s…”

“Weird?” David supplied.

She nodded. “Yeah, weird.”

The siblings stared at each other for a moment before David shook his head. “But of course that’s not why I called you.” He added with a wave of his hand.

“And why did you call me?” Emma asked cautiously. She inched a little more to the edge of her seat, straightening up in anticipation of what he could possibly say.

He noted her change in posture and adopted a stance similar to hers. “Why do you look like you’re sixteen again and about to argue your way out of community service for the millionth time?” He inquired, his expression bemused.

Emma shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know? You called me in here saying you needed to discuss something and from what it sounded like on the phone, you weren’t exactly happy.” She held up her left hand in a ‘can you blame me’ gesture. “It was exactly like how dad used to sound when-”

“When you got yourself mixed up in that damn club?”

Sighing, Emma flopped back against the surprisingly comfortable cushion in her chair. “So, this is about Killian.” There was no point in making it a question when it had been something she’d suspected the whole time. She propped her elbow up on the chair’s arm so she could rub at her temple with her index and middle finger.

“Is it?” David implored.

“What?” Now Emma was confused.

“About Killian?”

“Is it not about Killian?” She could feel herself getting agitated as her confusion grew. It also didn’t help that they’d said that name more times in the span of a minute than she’d heard it said in a decade.

David was visibly getting irritated himself. “You’re the one who brought up Killian…”

“I brought up Killian because _you_ mentioned the club, _David_!” Emma snapped, sitting up in her seat again so she could jab the fingers that had been resting against her face in his direction.

Rising from his chair again, hands resting on the top of his desk, David glowered down at her. “I mentioned the club, _Emma_.” He turned away from her, bending down to retrieve something from the floor behind his desk. As he righted himself, she saw it was a giant product box usually available from a grocery store. David dropped the box on his desk and Emma stood to peer inside it.

“Because this,” He pushed it closer to her with a little bit of force. She reached out and stopped it with her hand grasping over the lip of the box, giving him an unamused look at his dramatics. “Was dropped off this morning for you by the latest Jones prospect.”

Despite the current tension between them, Emma could help but frown in confusion. “Prospect? How could Killian still be a prospect?”

David stared at her for a moment like she’d lost her mind before he blinked in realization. “Right, you were gone before the whole little Liam situation.” At her growing look of bewilderment, he shook his head. “I don’t wanna get into discussing that family’s drama right now. What I wanna discuss is why two Rapscallions waltz into my station this morning to deliver this for you?”

Peering inside the box, Emma’s eyes went wide as she took in the contents. As she scanned each item, a feeling of shock slowly seeping its way down her spine, a note card wedged against the side caught her attention. She fished it out, reading the looping and unusually messy script scrawled across it.

‘ _In case you needed it. - K’_

“It’s from him, isn’t it?” David sighed and Emma glanced up sharply at him for a moment before returning her attention to the box. Nearly every single thing she’d left scattered across the market’s parking lot yesterday evening was there, right down to the lollipop she’d gotten for Henry as a treat for being so good while they’d moved in.

Killian Jones had made sure she’d gotten her groceries.

“Emma, is it from-”

Emma threw the notecard down into the box, the heat returning to her brother’s voice causing her own hackles to rise up once again. “Yes, David. It’s from Killian. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

David threw his arms in the air and turned away from the desk. “I knew it!”

“So you _did_ have me come in here about Killian after all.” Emma nodded in irritation as fierce blue eyes turned back towards her. “The whole _the club_ bullshit you were spouting just a moment ago, interrogating me about bringing up Killian, and you knew the whole damn time.”

Her brother stepped back closer again, holding his hand out towards her. “Of course I knew, Emma. How could I not know? Mary Margaret comes home last night saying you had something happen at the market but were too upset to talk about it, and this morning I go to Granny’s for some coffee and hear Leroy blabbering on about how you were seen with Jones outside the very same market last night.”

He slapped his hand against the box of mac and cheese sitting atop the neat pile of groceries. “And now you’ve got a Rapscallion care package being hand delivered here? _Two weeks,_ Emma. It’s been two damn weeks and you’re already-”

“Already what?!” Emma yelled back. “Going to the store to get my kid some food because the idiot that I am left all the nice home-cooked stuff at your house? I was there because Mary Margaret _encouraged me_ to go. I didn’t know Killian would be there.”

David gave her an unimpressed look. “Please Emma, don’t play naive. You knew moving to that apartment meant you were gonna run into him sooner rather than later.”

Laughing sarcastically, Emma took a step back. “Oh yes, that’s right. Back on the apartment thing again. Because if I’d stayed at the farmhouse in the first place, I never would’ve run into him? Who’s pretending to be naive now? _You,”_ She pointed at him. “Were the one that _insisted_ I move home, despite knowing that the same shit that caused me to leave this place would _still_ be here the second I stepped foot across that town line!”

“At the house, I can keep you-”

“What? Protected? Locked away from all the less than savory things in Storybrooke you don’t approve of? It never worked in the sixteen years Dad was running things there and now here, you _really_ think it’s gonna be any easier for you?!”

“At least there, I can know you’re not gonna get knocked up by some fucking outlaw who goes around ruining families because ruining his own isn’t enough for him!”

Emma felt an eerie sense of calm take over her at David’s shouted retort. It was an unusual mix of anger and acceptance. Like everything else that came along with coming home, it had been an inevitable conclusion for them to get to this place once again. She had hoped it would take longer, but nothing got them yelling at either other as fast as Killian Jones did.

For his part, David instantly looked regretful at his outburst. His mouth gaped open, at a clear loss for words. But Emma had heard more than enough already. She held up her hand and shook her head as he started to reach out for her.

“I’ll tell Mary Margaret she doesn’t have to worry about those extra place settings for some time.” She responded, the calmness that had washed over her coming out in her tone. Emma hoisted the box of groceries off the desk and rested it against her hip. “Henry and I have a nice care package here that will hold us over for dinner for a little while at least.” She turned and moved over towards the door, pulling it open carefully as not to drop the box.

She could hear David start to make his away around the desk. “Emma…” His voice had finally returned to him.

Emma turned and gave him a cool look that stopped him in his tracks. “Thanks for the call, Sheriff.”  Unphased by the helpless look he threw her way, she turned once again and made her way out of the office and across the bullpen. She astutely ignored the concerned look Graham was giving her when he rose from his chair as she strode past. She ignored practically everything until she had found her way back to her car and had loaded the box into the passenger seat next to her.

She reached into the box and pulled out the notecard again.

Emma read the words over a few times before she reached over and unlatched the glove compartment. Tucking the card away safely inside, she slammed the hatch closed and sat back in her seat. She fished her keys out of the pocket of her red leather jacket and shoved them into the ignition, her Bug rumbling to life with one quick turn of her wrist.

Settling back again, Emma reached out and rested her palms against the steering wheel. Pulling in a deep breath through her nose, she closed her eyes and let the air slowly escape past her lips. Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel momentarily, she nodded as she finally came to a decision.

Lowering her right hand to the clutch, Emma squared her shoulders.

She knew what she needed to do.

\-----

“I’m in big trouble, you know.”

Killian froze at the unmistakable voice that casually floated on the wind from behind where he was crouched in front of his bike. He allowed himself a couple of seconds of heart-crushing panic before giving his head a small shake to regain his composure. Setting aside the wrench in his hand, he rose slowly, pulling the rag from the back pocket of his jeans.

He finally let out a little, dark laugh at what she’d said, rubbing his greasy hands against the soft cloth. “You know, it’s funny how a decade can change so bloody much,” He turned to face the woman who had haunted nearly every dream for the past ten years. Whereas the day before, Emma had barely given him a chance to look at her before she was gone, this time she was standing still as a doe, anxiously watching his appraisal of her.

“And yet change nothing at all.” Killian finished on a sigh. And it was true. The years since he’d last looked upon her like he was doing now had done nothing to diminish his overwhelming attraction to her. Not just her looks, which had clearly filled out in the time since they’d been teenagers, much to his appreciation. But to her entire being. Emma Swan was a vision of blonde hair and an onslaught of fiery personality at all times, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from getting burned every chance he got. Even still, Killian found the strength somewhere within him not to close the gap between the two of them. The killer hangover pounding behind his left eye was likely a good source of that strength.

“What big trouble did the big, bad Jones boy get you into this time, princess?”

She wrinkled her nose at the old jab of a nickname. “The brotherly kind.”

Killian smirked and rolled his eyes. “Ah yes…” He held out his hand, palm out. “You see, nothing’s changed hardly at all.” He looked down to the cloth still in his other hand for a moment, before looking sharply back to Emma. “And yet…” He trailed off, the inverse to his original statement.

Emma seemed at a loss for words in response and Killian nodded after a moment of awkward silence past between them. “Yeah, well…” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Good talk. Thanks for informing me how I’m once more getting you in trouble. Nothing like a blast from the past to _really_ get a man feeling good.”

As he turned to go back to tinkering with his ride, Emma gave a tilt of  her head of her own. “You’re hungover.”

It wasn’t a question and it ate at him that she was still so able to read him even at a distance. Killian tried to play off the unsettled feeling with a cheeky smirk, deciding honesty was better than acting like it wasn’t right. Better to acknowledge she was than act like the connection still wasn’t there. “Yes, well, like I just said… blast from the past, feeling good… they go hand in hand.”

Emma took a small step forward but Killian kept turning back to his bike, not wanting to be the one to break. Even though he technically already had, when his doped up self the night before had instructed Lee to go about gathering all the food Emma had left behind and deliver it to the Sheriff’s station.

“I’m sorry I ran, Killian.”

He did feel the need to throw her a curious look over his shoulder. “Which time?”

Her face fell for a moment and he felt almost bad at having caused such a look of dejection. But then his headache flared up, reminding him of the reopened wound that had been his heart since the evening before, and it passed. His attention returned to the work at hand. He reached behind him to tuck the rag back into his pocket and once more retrieved his wrench.

“I wanted to thank you for the groceries.”

“And for causing another spat with dear Dave…” Killian mumbled. With her silence, Killian couldn’t help but feel mildly victorious over being able to read _her_ from a distance as well as she could read him. “That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? Because big brother left you smarting and you wanna get back at him by heading my way…”

He heard her take a few more steps his direction. “I did really come to thank you for the groceries,” Again Killian glanced at her over his shoulder, this time a look of pure disbelief behind his blue eyes. Emma rolled hers and shrugged. “And yes, okay, maybe I wanna stick it to my brother a little by coming here.”

Killian snorted and shook his head, going right back to his fiddling.

“But I actually feel like I came out on top of the argument this time…” Her tone was hopeful. Like she was probing for some sort of praise from him.

He wasn’t up to giving any. “What do you want?” Killian sighed tiredly, tossing the wrench more forcefully to the ground this time. He twisted on his feet so he was facing her. The look he gave her was dead serious.

Emma chewed at her bottom lip for a moment and then offered an awkward shrug. “To talk.”

The grin he responded with was ugly in its aggravation. “Now you wanna talk, Swan?” He shot upright, feeling the long suppressed emotional hurt rising up his spine as he went. “Ten bloody years after you left this town without so much as one word,” he finally moving toward her. “After you walked out on _us_ ,” he gestured between them with a finger. “After you quite literally _ran_ away from me yesterday.”

Killian was right in front of her now, staring down at her with an intensity that would have most men crack. Emma didn’t, however, and despite his current feelings towards her, he couldn’t help but also feel a sense of pride. She’d always been tough and stubborn and as much as he wished he didn’t care, he was still driven mad with love for her.

“ _Now_ you think you have some bloody right to show up at my home and inform me you’re here to talk?”

Legs locked firmly in place, arms now crossed and back straight, Emma’s look was unwavering as she stared back. “Yes.” She said simply.

Killian felt himself deflate a fraction at the straightforward answer. “Why?” He whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

When he opened them back up, Emma was pulling something from her back pocket. He let out a sigh when he saw the notecard from the night before pinched between her fingers as she held it up in the small amount of space between them.

“Because of this.”

He glanced from the paper to her green eyes staring up at him intently.

After a moment searching her eyes, realizing she wasn’t gonna give in first, he rolled his eyes and gave a reluctant half smile. He turned and started stalking his way towards his house, leaving it up to Emma to decide if she wanted to follow or not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to everyone who has left comments and shown love and support for this story! It means so much. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Trailing slowly behind Killian up the porch and into his home, Emma spent a moment taking in everything around her. When they had been younger, Killian had still been living in the expansive home that belonged to his father and mother, right in the heart of Storybrooke. He’d always spoke of making his own space closer to the water. Emma felt a bittersweetness overtake her seeing that he had achieved it.

“I’m having a drink.” Killian called from the kitchen, on the other side of the large sunken-in living room. She could hear things being rummaged around on the counter. He glanced up at her as the sounds of movement stopped. “You joining?”

“Is it rum?” She called back, continuing her slow perusal of her surroundings. The decor was simple, a distinct nautical atmosphere to it all.

“Is that even a question?” Killian snorted as he moved into the room and made his way over to her. He offered a glass out to her, an eyebrow quirked in a way she instantly realized she had missed seeing.

Emma cautiously took the drink from his hand. “I didn’t say yes…”

Stepping close to her like he had outside, he stared down at her intently. “You wanna talk?” When Emma nodded wordlessly, Killian nodded back. “Then you take the drink and come sit down.” He declared before brushing past her and stepping down into the living room. He threw himself back into the couch against the wall of windows overlooking the churning sea.

Emma stared at him while he took a deep swig from his glass.

When she still didn’t move, Killian gestured to the oversized lounge chair just to his left. “Either you sit, drink, talk…” his hand moved to the door past her shoulder. “Or you go home, Swan. Decision’s yours.”

She saw the challenge in his eyes, him daring her to run once again. She met the challenge with a tentative sip from her drink, moving over to where he’d gestured for her to sit. 

A tiny frown formed between her brows as she swallowed. “That’s not very strong.” Emma eyed the glass curiously before looking at Killian.

He gave her an indignant look. “I’m not trying to get you drunk, Emma.” He waved his free hand in the general area around his head and rolled his eyes. “Just a bit of hair of the dog for meself. Besides, I know you drove here,” That eyebrow quirk was back as he gave her a sideways glance. “Despite not seeing that ugly yellow beast outside.”

Emma made a face at his descriptor for her car. “I parked up by the bend and walked out here.” She admitted begrudgingly. Both Killian’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “I didn’t want you to know I was coming.”

To her own surprise, Killian laughed lightly. “Ah, you can take the girl outta outlaw country…” Despite the mention of her leaving Storybrooke, they both smirked at the remark. “If you were afraid I’d make a break for it, that road,” he gestured in the direction of the front of the house. “Is the only way in or out of here. Gives me a sense of security when home.”

“It’s a nice home.” Emma couldn’t stop herself from saying. “You always wanted a place on the coast to call your own and…” She trailed off as a guarded look fell over Killian’s features.

“Yes, well…” he shrugged and took a slow sip from his drink, eyeing her over the rim of the glass. As he swallowed, he brushed at his bottom lip with his tongue and sat forward to place the glass on the coffee table. “Guess it was important to keep some dreams alive even when your heart is dying.”

Emma closed her eyes, gripping her own drink tightly. “Killian…” she sighed sadly.

“How’s your boy?”

Her eyes snapped open. “What?” Her words were barely above a whisper, the shock and surprise at his question unable to mask.

Killian was sitting back once more, a heavily tattooed arm stretched across the back of the couch. “Your boy. Is he well?” When Emma continued to gape at him in bewilderment, Killian smirked and glanced away. “Come now, Swan.” He looked back at her patiently. “You know better than anyone that nothing stays a secret forever in Storybrooke. Especially when your brother gets drunk as the devil at the Easter festival, blathering on about his _amazing_ nephew.” He smirked at the memory.

He then shrugged. “Besides, I saw those groceries you had. As much as you’ve always eaten like a child, I think juice boxes are a bit of a stretch, even for you, love.” Killian snorted and then frowned slightly. “I do owe your boy some animal crackers, though.” His frown deepened. “And the Gushers.” He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “And that celery peanut butter thing.”

“What?” Emma found she had lost all the other words in her vocabulary. More than that, she felt like all the air in her lungs had gone with them. She tried to pull in a deep breath, but it came up far too short and she gasped. Tears started to well in her eyes, only compounding the blurriness starting to fill in around the edges.

Over the sound of blood rushing in her ears, she heard sudden rustling and then Killian was filling her vision, pulling the glass from her hands and placing it on the table behind him.

“Swan, look at me...” He urged, turning around and gently cupping her face between his hands. The coolness of his rings resting against her flushed cheeks had enough of a grounding effect. She focused her attention on his concerned blue eyes. “It’s alright, love. You’re alright. Your son’s alright.”

The mention of Henry had her immediately spiraling again and she tried to weakly pull away from his touch, shaking her head as she went.

Killian pulled his hands away, holding them up in a placating gesture. “I’m not angry, Emma. I promise you.” He whispered, trying once more to catch her gaze. When she finally glanced at him again, he nodded with his eyes going wide. “I promise.”

It felt like the next few moments stretched on forever between them, but slowly Emma felt the sudden panic start to ebb. Killian gave her another inquisitive head nod to make sure she was starting to feel okay. She responded with a nod of her own and reached up to wipe at the tears that had started to slowly slide down her cheeks.

Dropping his hands so they were dangling over his knees, Killian gave her a resigned, sad smile. “Have I become that much of a monster in your mind that you’d think your boy would be in danger?” His voice was quiet, regretful.

Emma shook her head. “You’re not a monster, Killian.”

His look remained sad in a knowing sort of way. “With the way you up and left…” He shrugged and swallowed thickly, looking to the floor beneath where he was crouched. “And that reaction just now.”

“It wasn’t you…” It was Emma’s turn to lean forward and try and catch Killian’s gaze. “It’s never been you, Killian. It…” Her voice wavered, causing him to look back up quickly. “It was always _me_. I…” She waved her hand erratically before dropping it to rest atop her leg. “I know you _hate_ me, which means you likely hate Henry and he doesn’t deserve that and-”

“Swan.” Killian’s hand atop hers cut off her emotional rambling. “I could never hate you.”

She snorted incredulously. “Because the reception I got outside was you not hating me.”

“You pointed it out yourself, love - I’m hungover.” Killian laughed lightly, his own emotions coming out with the sound. “You know how I get when I’m like this…” He waved the hand not resting on her thigh around his head. “And I’m like this because seeing you again brought _everything_ back last night. Everything I’ve felt for the past ten years.”

Emma opened her mouth to point out how he’d just said he didn’t hate her, but Killian rushed on quickly before she could.

“I _wanted_ to hate you. So desperately wanted to curse your very existence. I _tried_ even,” He confessed. “But I bloody _couldn’t_ . So when that didn’t work, I tried with women, and rum, and weed, and the club to _forget,_ but seeing you last night reminded me that…” He shrugged again and brushed his thumb over her the side of her hand. “All of those feelings paled in comparison to the most important one I’ve ever felt for you. The one I’ve always felt for you.”

Letting her green-eyed gaze fall to where their hands were connected, she noticed something for the first time since their unexpected reunion the night before. It hadn’t escaped her attention how much Killian had embraced the style of club life. The most notable detail in said embracing were the tattoos. He’d had one tiny one on his wrist when she’d high-tailed it out of town ten years ago. It was a compliment to the one on her own left wrist. Now his arms were covered in them, and she could see glimpses of others peeking out around the edges of his shirt at his chest and collarbones.

The one that distinctly caught her attention, however, was what was meticulously needled across the knuckles of his hand still resting atop her own.

_'S-W-A-N’._

She glanced up sharply to find him watching her with such intensity, such unchecked love, that she felt all the rest of the world fade around her. Gone were the last ten years, the strife of her family against his, every minute detail that had factored into what ultimately forced them apart.

Right there, in that moment, sitting in the living room of the house Killian had always dreamed of building for himself, it all came back to what it had always ever been deep down.

Killian and Emma.

And she reacted the way she always had when it came back to just him and her.

She kissed him.

\-----

Killian brushed at his lips with the tips of his ring and pinkie fingers, cigarette clenched between the middle and forefingers, finding himself staring up at the sky from his dock once more. He was still somewhat lost in the feeling of having Emma Swan kissing him for the first time in forever. Of all the ways he’d imagined their impromptu talk going, making out on his living room floor hadn’t been one of them. Not that he was complaining… much.

He brought his fingers from his lips up to the back of his head, wincing at the obvious knot that had sprung to life in the couple hours since Emma had left. Falling back and knocking his already aching head against the edge of the coffee table was definitely not something he enjoyed all that much while locked in an intense kiss with his ex-girlfriend.

It had effectively knocked them out of the spell they’d both fallen under.

_“Bloody hell,” he winced at the same time Emma gasped ‘Oh shit’ as she pulled her lips away from his. She reached out and cradled the back of his head gently, her blonde hair cascading down around them. He had managed to work it out of the ponytail she’d had it in during their passionate kissing._

_“You okay?”_

_He opened his eyes to find her staring down at him in mild concern. “Aye. Just another headache from Emma Swan,” His words came with a slow forming grin and earned him a hard smack on the shoulder for the joke. He laughed and sat up, making sure to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her firmly in place straddling his lap as he went._

_Her green eyes were alight with a mix of bewilderment, amusement, and mischief. They were mesmerizing and enchanting._

_“Emma, that was-” Just as his attention was being drawn back to her kiss-bruised lips, the sound of Disney’s ‘Heigh Ho’ began playing from somewhere behind Emma. She let out another quiet curse, twisting in his lap to search for what was clearly a cellphone she had lost in the fray._

It had been her sister-in-law asking where she’d gotten to. Emma had made her leave quickly after that, but not before programming her phone number into Killian’s own cell. He’d made sure to give her a departing kiss to her knuckles as she went, and the smile on her face had sent him spiraling as much as the making out had.

How quickly his world had shifted in less than twenty-four hours.

He felt his phone chirp from the back pocket of his jeans. Resting his cigarette between his lips, he lifted up a fraction to jimmy the thing free. Holding it aloft above his head with one hand, he use the other to block out the sunlight against the screen. His lips quirked up in a half smile as he read the incoming text he’d received.

_‘Some talk, Jones.’_

Killian pushed himself into a sitting position, being sure to inhale a drag from his cigarette before pulling it away between his fingers. Holding it out slightly so he could type with his thumbs, he started to grin fully as he unlocked the phone and quickly sent his reply.

**_‘You’re the one who assaulted me, princess.’_ **

He waited as the ellipses indicating she was typing flashed underneath his text, exhaling the smoke in his lungs.

_‘You sure as hell weren’t complaining.’_

Another message followed almost instantly.

‘ _And don’t call me that.’_

Killian licked at the corner of his mouth, knowing the nickname would once more get a rise out of her. Choosing to ignore her demand, he replace the cigarette between his lips.

**_‘My head’s sure complaining now.’_ **

Again, there was a minor delay as she typed out a response.

_‘That’s the hangover.’_

**_‘Also your fault.’_ **

_‘Hardly.’_

Killian squinted as he once more took the cigarette from his mouth. His gaze drifted up to the waves before him, the sound of them crashing against the dock seeming to match the swirling thoughts in his head. The truth was, Emma Swan had been the cause of many a hangover for the better part of the last decade. He hadn’t been lying to her when he’d told her he couldn’t hate her. He well and truly couldn’t. Not when he still loved her so bloody much, despite it all. That didn’t mean there wasn’t still a lot of hurt and history to navigate.

The sound of an incoming message swooshing in drew his attention back to the phone in his lap.

_‘Killian?’_

He licked at his bottom lip, flicking the cigarette out into the water. He felt his brow furrow as he took the phone between both hands again.

 _‘_ **_We definitely still need to talk.’_ **

One hand dropped down to his knee, fingers tapping an almost frantic rhythm as he a watched the ellipses appear and disappear several times. It was almost to the point where he was ready to quip ‘or we can just make out again’ when her response finally popped up on the screen.

_‘Yeah, we do.’_

He waited as the screen indicated she was typing once more. But just as her next message came in, another text filled the center of the screen.

It was from Liam.

Killian read what his brother had sent quickly before dropping his phone down into his lap with a sigh. Seemed his president-ordered down time had come to an abrupt end. He was half-tempted to fire back a quick middle finger emoji to his brother just for the absolutely shit timing. But better, more loyal judgement quickly overrode the thought. Still, Killian let out a frustrated growl as he brought his fingers up to rub at his forehead in irritation.

The club always came first.

Picking the phone back up with a sigh, he shot a short affirmative to his brother before navigating his way back into the text window with Emma. He stared at the most recently received message sitting at the bottom. With one last glance at the sea, a pang of remorse that he couldn’t just sail away from his life once again briefly flaring up in his chest, he gave a resigned nod and rose to his feet, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he went.

\-----

_‘Tonight?’_

Emma stared at her last text to Killian, the timestamp indicating the hours since she’d sent it practically mocking her at this point. Her bedroom around her was quiet and dark, save for the light of her phone screen. The afternoon had shifted into evening, and the evening into the wee hours of the morning and still Killian hadn’t responded. What had started as nervousness at her suggesting they meet up against had slowly, agonizingly, given way to confusion and a weird sense of betrayal.

Still she couldn’t stop herself from staring at the damn phone at two o’clock in the morning, a part of her still hoping to see some response from him come to life on her screen. The rest of her was berating herself for doing _exactly_ what David had feared she would. How could she have kissed him? She’d just gone to _talk_ with him, clear the air, maybe at least mend part of the bridge she’d obliterated the moment she’d walked out of their life without a word.

She’d had no intention of getting a taste of outlaw again. Yet here she was, awake in the middle of the night, fretting over her feelings for one particular outlaw suddenly brought back to life. Confusion and passion and pain - the same combination of emotions that had always been a part of the package when it came to Killian frickin’ Jones, crown prince of Storybrooke’s biker empire.

Emma wanted so badly to scream and throw her phone at the wall across the room. But Henry had insisted on sleeping in her bed that night. Another consequence from her impromptu, and seemingly more idiotic as the minutes ticked by, visit to that house on the coast. Her son had been pretty much attached at the hip since she had picked him up from the farm house. There hadn’t been a single day in her son’s young life that mama had been gone longer than anticipated. It hadn’t helped that Mary-Margaret’s naturally inquisitive nature, and one not so subtle text from her husband, had sent her sister-in-law into instant interrogation mode the moment Emma had walked through the door. Henry was a sensitive, smart boy and had felt the tension in the discussion between the two women. It had only compounded his clinginess that night.

So instead of screaming and throwing a tantrum that would put her son to shame, and likely send David into his own arrogant fit of ‘I told you so’ if he was around, Emma laid on her side, her sleeping son tucked up against her chest, staring broodily at the unanswered text. The urge to step outside and see if she could bum another cigarette off one of her neighbors was strong. As was the urge to shoot back a rather unsavory text to her ex-biker boyfriend. Instead, she settled on at least closing out the text window and firing up Candy Crush Soda on her phone. Distraction that didn’t require disturbing Henry or causing undo damage to anyone or thing was her best option. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to sleep anyways.

She wasn’t sure how long she played. The app blocked out the bar at the top of the phone that displayed the time, and every time she exited out to cheat five more lives into the game, it was such an autopilot set of moves that she never bothered to check.  All she knew was she played enough for it to lull her into a temporary sense of numbness, eventually giving way to sleepiness. Emma was just about ready to call it quits, figuring the current game she was playing would be her last, succeed or fail, when she thought she heard a quiet knock coming from the front door.

Frowning, she lowered the phone slightly, blinking into the darkness. Had she imagined it? The tiredness she hadn’t been able to feel before had kicked in hard over the course of the last handful of games she played, so it was certainly possible.

But no, there it was again. A gentle rapping of something against wood, carrying through the slightly ajar door of her bedroom.

“What the hell? She mumbled to herself quietly, pushing up on her elbow. Henry mumbled something in his sleep as she moved. Emma placed a calming hand on his arm, gaze hyper focused in the direction of her front door. Closing out the app on her phone, she finally noted the time. It was nearly four in the morning. The hairs on the back of her neck started to rise. There was no plausible reason for _anyone_ to be showing up at her apartment at that time of night without letting her know first.

Carefully easing herself away from her son and off the bed, Emma swiped up on the phone’s screen to ignite the flashlight. Henry shifted on the bed, turning away from her with a whine and Emma made sure to tuck the comforter snuggly around his shoulders.

The knocking came a third time.

Swiftly, Emma moved over to her dresser and pulled out the top drawer. Holding the lit phone up slightly, she rummaged through her underwear until her fingers connected with the cool metal near the back. Carefully, she extracted the pistol she had stored away there only just yesterday.

She made her way over to the doorway, throwing one last glance to Henry before slipping out. She wanted to close the door completely behind her, but both hands were full and she didn’t want to waste anymore time. Especially when the knocking rang out through the apartment once more.

Emma headed straight for the door, the gun in her hand pointed upward as she went. She paused for a moment to deposit her phone on the kitchen counter as she passed, flashlight side up, before stepping up against the final barrier between her and whoever was so damned determined to get her attention on the other side. Cocking the gun carefully, she pressed her eye against the peephole.

The harsh lighting from the walkway illuminated a figure leaning back against the railing just outside her apartment. Even through the warped glass, she could pick up on the tense set of his shoulders, the slightly distorted image of his hand buried into his hair as he attention was focused on the cheap concrete underneath his boots.

Taking a step back from the door, Emma cursed under her breath. She uncocked the gun, lowering her arm so it hung loosely at her side. She had two options - make her way back to her bedroom, close and lock the door behind her, and act like she’d never even heard the knocking. He was bound to give up eventually, likely resigning himself to the belief that he’d simply gotten the wrong apartment.

Or she could open the door for one harried looking Killian Jones outside.

Despite the parts of herself that had spent the better part of the day steeping in anger and insecurity over his silence, the parts that had made her go all the way out to his home and eventually end up kissing him won out. Emma let out a sigh as she reached up to pulled the safety chain free and twist the deadbolt unlocked a couple of feet below that.

Killian’s head snapped up as she pulled the door open. Whatever she’d thought she’d been prepared to say died on her lips as she took him in without the crappy glass warping her vision. The whole left side of his face was caked in blood from a nasty gash up just above his temple. There was definite bruising, signs of a black eye already forming on the same side. From the way he was holding himself, gingerly tucking his left arm up against his chest, she could guess the beating the rest of him took.

“Oh my god, Killian,” She gasped quietly, stepping out the door.

“H-hey, Swan.” He tried to keep his voice light and friendly, but the pain lacing his tone was clear as day.

She moved in closer to him, the shock of seeing him tore up giving way to the anger that had almost tempted her to walk away from the door moments before. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He shrugged awkwardly with his right shoulder. “You said you wanted to see me tonight?”

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of a car backfiring drew her attention up to the street. It set in quickly that she was standing out in front of her apartment, one of the most easily recognizable members of the Raspscallions looking more than a little roughed up standing right in front of her. She rolled her eyes and stepped up next to him on the right, using her free hand to shove against the back of his shoulder. He winced sharply as she steered him into her apartment.

It seemed they were well past awkward apartment tours at that point because while Emma busied herself with locking the door behind them, Killian didn’t hesitate to make his way into her living room. She quickly followed after him, leaning slightly to flick on the table lamp so she could see him clearly while she glared at him.

Killian winced again from where he’d dropped onto her couch, squinting in the drastic light change.

“Jones, what the h-”

“Do I need to add you to the list too?”

Emma furrowed her brow in confusion at his non-sequitur cutting off her agitated exclamation. “What?”

Gesturing with his right hand at the gun still grasped in her own, Killian looked up at her with a pain-filled, self-deprecating smile. “Of people who have wanted _and_ attempted to shoot me tonight.”

She glanced down at the pistol, then rolled her eyes and quickly stepped over to the kitchen to deposit it on the counter. She then turned back on him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Okay, gun’s down.” She lifted both her eyebrows as she moved slowly back towards him on the couch. “Now are you gonna tell me why you showed up on my doorstep looking like that? Shouldn’t you be…” Emma uncrossed one of her arms to gesture at the air vaguely. “At a hospital or something.”

Killian snorted and leaned his hips upward to awkwardly fish his pack of cigarettes out of his pockets. He flipped the lid open, bringing the box up to his lips. “Why would I when your bedside manner is far superior?” He mumbled around the cigarette he’d pulled out, tossing the box aside on the cushion next to him.

“Killian!”

He flinched at Emma’s admonishment, looking at her in startled confusion. His hand was stuck into his pocket, searching around for his lighter.

Rolling her eyes, Emma stepped right into the space between his widely spread legs. She snatched the cigarette from his lips, holding it up between them in annoyance. “Some of us have landlords we have to pay a lot of money to if we break the rules. Like the one about smoking in the apartment.”

Killian snorted again as Emma turned to toss the cigarette on her coffee table. “Moe’s such a bloody crook, acting like he’s not ball sack deep in Gold’s dirty fingers-”

“Killian!” Emma snapped again. She was about at the end of her rope with the way he was clearly diverting from the main issue every chance he got. Her fierce green eyes turned back on him as he looked up at her, his own blue eyes wide. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

Never breaking her stare, Killian’s one eyebrow quirked up sharply. “As I said outside, you invited me.”

Laughing humorlessly, Emma turned and stalked away from him. “ _Yesterday_ , Killian.” She threw her arms in the air in frustration. “I texted you _yesterday_ if you’d come over _last night_ ,” Whipping back around, she held her right arm out in the direction of the kitchen, vaguely recalling that her phone was still sitting upended on the counter. “It’s four in the fucking morning. You never responded, and I spent the rest of yesterday caught up in-” Killian was watching her intently as she ranted, and Emma realized she was on the verge of breaking down in tears in front of him.

She let out a frustrated growl, covering her face with her hands. “My brother was right.” She mumbled into her palms.

“Right about what?” Killian asked quietly.

Emma shrugged pathetically. “Me. Us.” She dropped her hands, gesturing with the left one between them. “This thing that we do.”

Sitting forward, a silent wince marring his face as he moved, Killian was sure to find her gaze once more. The intensity she’d noticed a moment ago had seemed to have grown tenfold with the movement. “What do we do, Emma?”

She rolled her eyes again and looked to the ceiling. “You know what we do, Killian.” She sighed and lowered her gaze back to him, her look incredulous. “We push and we pull and tease and taunt.” The helplessness, the resignation that this was how it would always be with them, weighed so heavy on her in that moment. “We come together just to fall apart all over again.” Emma shook her head as she watched a small scowl form on his face. “You know I’m right, Killian.”

He puckered up his lips slightly in agitation, nodding while looking to the floor. “Aye, you are.” He muttered and Emma felt an uncertainty of where they were about to head overwhelm her. It was so early in the morning, him sitting beaten, quite literally, on her couch and here she was telling him their entire relation was one big tangled mess of-

“That does sound like some horseshit David would say.”

Her eyes went wide as Killian looked back to her, the distaste in his tone matching the stormy look on his face.

Her shoulders tensed at the obvious fire that had suddenly sprung to life in his eyes. “Killian…” She felt like a broken record at the point, she had sighed or snapped his name so much in such a short time span. He’d been right the day before - the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Killian pushed to his feet. “No, I’m sorry…” He shook his head, squinting briefly off to his right. “I don’t buy it.” When he looked back at her, the fire in his eyes had grown into a look that had always made her insides ache. She wanted to sob at the passion he had for her, for _them_ , wanting to both run from and right to him at the sight of it.

“You know better than _anyone_ , Swan,” Killian stepped towards her. “That nobody knows what’s between us _except_ us. Not this town, not the club.” He came to stop before her, the tips of his muddy motorcycle boots brushing against her bare toes. “Your father didn’t,” Emma felt that familiar pang at the mention of her adoptive father and started to look away.

Killian reached up and gently directed her attention back to him. “Your brother doesn’t. Only we know.” His voice was soft, as tender as his thumb brushing along her jaw.

“How could we know, Killian?” Emma asked, desperation and uncertainty coloring the question. “We’re not sixteen anymore. I’ve got a kid, and you’re…” She looked him up and down and shrugged, even as she couldn’t stop herself from slipping her finger into his belt loop. She let out a small, emotional laugh. “You’re exactly what you were always supposed to be. And that’s _always_ been a part of the push,” She glanced back up at him. “How do we know this can even work again?”

Killian shrugged, licking at his lips as both eyebrows rose into his hairline. “I’m willing to find out if you are, love.”

She searched his eyes for any of whatever had kept him from coming to her earlier in the night. Any sort of glimmer of doubt or hesitation on his part, and Emma knew she would have to end this in a way she hadn’t been able to the day before.

All she could see, and feel, was the truth in what he was saying.

So for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she found herself kissing Killian Jones.

\-----

Saying Killian’s life had always been insane and unpredictable would be an understatement. His father was the now-retired president of a motorcycle club that held a massive amount of power in their small coastal town. His oldest brother was the current president of the club he was now a member of himself. He regularly dealt in a high-stakes lifestyle of smuggled goods, guns, and fast bikes. He’d had his fair share of scrapes and close calls as he’d come up through the ranks to find himself sitting comfortably with the ‘Vice President’ patch pressed into his club cut.

To put it lightly, his life was chaos at all times.

And yet, finding himself sitting in the bathroom of his former ex-lover’s apartment was probably the most intense experience he felt he’d ever had.

His head and ribs pounding out a constantly throbbing rhythm against his left side certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“You really should go see a real doctor, Killian.” Emma had the same uncertain tone from earlier when she’d mentioned a hospital, only this time there was genuine concern in the suggestion. She was kneeling in front of him as he sat on her closed toilet, a surprisingly well-stocked first aid kit open on the tile floor next to her. _‘I’ve got a toddler now’_ had been her slightly defensive response when he’d given the box an impressed once over as she’d pulled it out.

That she did. It was one thing to know of her son’s existence from town gossip, but another thing entirely to see the young lad with his own eyes as Emma had carried him off to his own bed. Killian had tried to insist that she didn’t need to relocate her boy for him - he’d crashed on many a couch in his day and hers was far superior to a lot of those if the few minutes he’d sat on it was anything to go by.

_“And what happens when Henry wakes up in a couple hours and finds a strange, injured man in our living room?”_

It was a winning point that he’d conceded to. Just as she now seemed determined to whisk him off to some doctor over a bump to the head and a couple of snapped ribs.

“Killian.”

Oh yeah, she was definitely a mom.

“Swan,” Killian groaned. “You know exactly why I _can’t_ go to a hospital.”

She lowered the wash cloth she was dabbing at the wound on his head to give him a straight-forward look. “Actually, I don’t. You still haven’t told me what happened to you tonight that caused you to show up looking like this.”

Killian eyed her a bit wearily as she stared him down. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Despite everything, she was the one person in the world he _knew_ he could trust with anything to do with his life. It wasn’t _Emma_ that was holding him back from being honest. It was him - or rather, his life. It was a constant churning sea of knowledge that could easily put someone close to him at risk.

Emma easily sensed his hesitation and sat back. “Killian,” Her voice was quiet and deadly serious. “You _just_ told me you were willing to find out if what’s between us still has something to it, didn’t you?” Killian closed his eyes and swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He nodded after a moment.  

When he opened his eyes again, she was waiting patiently. It seemed in the brief time he took to respond, she’d come to some sort of decision in her head. “The only way that’s gonna work is if we’re honest with each other. I can’t be kept in the dark about what you do,” She paused and pulled in a deep breath. “And who you do it to.”

Killian continued to simply stare, knowing she had more she wanted to add.

“Either you sit and you talk,” Emma shrugged. “Or you go home.”

He smirked at her reiterating back to him the point he’d made to her in his living room. She couldn’t seem to help quirking a half smile of her own in return, one eyebrow lifting cockily.

“Alright.” Killian answered quietly with a nod. She practically deflated with relief at his acquiescence. He tilted his head to the side, attempting to squeeze his already swelling left eye closed a little more. “But maybe we can make it a lie down and talk? I don’t know how much longer I can sit up like this.”

Emma opened her mouth, likely going to suggest he go to hospital once more. But he stopped her with a quieting finger to her lips. “I’ll explain everything, including why hospitals and I aren’t a good mix right now, as soon as we do. I promise, Swan.”

She scrunched up her nose and gave a small half nod. “Fine.” She agreed, but not before giving a quick nip to his finger playfully. It sent a wave of desire shooting through him, reminding Killian how long it had been since he had been in bed with this woman.

“Don’t do that, Swan,” Killian moaned as she stood and helped him to his feet. “I am _not_ an able-bodied man right now and you teasing is bad form.” He grumbled as he shuffled his way past her out of the bathroom.

Emma stayed back to hastily repack the first aid kit and chuck it into the cabinet under her sink. “Bad form?” She snorted as she followed after him, turning off the light as she went. The room flooded with darkness and Killian froze as she navigated her way around him and over to her bedside table. She turned the lamp there on and turned back to him with a playfully cynical expression. “When did you become such a gentleman, outlaw?”

Rolling his eyes, Killian made his way over to her. “You know better than anyone how much of a _gentleman_ ,” He leaned into her, running his nose against the soft skin just under her jaw. “I always am.” He pressed a sweet kiss against her neck.

She let out a satisfying sigh that sent a shock wave of desire right through him, but was gently pushing him back almost instantly. “Hey, you’re supposed to be talking, not kissing.”

Killian pouted. “You started it.”

“You showing up on my doorstep looking like you went six rounds with Conor McGregor started it.” Emma argued, reaching up and taking the front of his cut in her grasp. “How did you even know where I lived, anyway?” It seemed as if that particular observation had just occurred to her, if the adorable frown on her face was anything to go on.

“Had Lee con it out of Ariel, who conned it out of Graham at the station.” Killian mumbled with a grin as he leaned in to try and kiss her, this time her lips his intended destination.

Emma still pulled away, her look not as disapproving as he expected. “Ariel’s a member of the club? And who’s Lee?”

The bafflement there had his desire sobering quickly. He pulled away a fraction himself to give her a reluctant, tired nod. “Aye… talking it is then.”

\-----

It was once again knocking on her front door that had Emma rousing from her bed later that morning. She woke with a start at the light banging that echoed around the silent apartment, blindly reaching out for the phone she’d plugged in before taking Henry to his room just a few hours prior.

“Bloody hell, what time’s it?” Killian mumbled from where he was pressed against her back, his arm around her waist squeezing lightly as he buried his nose in her shoulder.

Emma sighed as she caught a glimpse of the clock on the screen. “9:15…” She whined, dropping the phone down on the mattress dramatically. They’d only just gotten to sleep a half an hour before, the hours they’d spent talking keeping them awake well until after the sun had started to rise. Just like earlier, when Killian had been at her door, whoever was knocking was clearly determined to get her attention as another knock sounded out.

She moved to throw the comforter spread over the pair of them aside, but Killian stopped her with a quick moment, causing him to wince as he tweaked his injured left side.

“Wait.” He hissed in pain, tightening his fingers on hers. “I should do it.”

Emma turned in his embrace, their hands still joined, to glance at him. He suddenly seemed very awake, the look in his eyes letting her know it was probably in both their best interests if she didn’t try to argue. Her thoughts flooded with all the things he’d said to her in that bed just a short time before, about the hijack on a scheduled Rapscallion run by a rival M.C. How the president of that club, who had only ever gone by the moniker ‘Blackbeard’, seemed very intent on hurting the Rapscallions last night.

She nodded. “Okay.”

Killian pressed a kiss to her cheek before sliding his way out from underneath the covers with some effort. She could tell he was stiff from even the little bit of rest they’d managed to get as he bent over and retrieved something from where he’d left his things the night before. While he rummaged through his stuff, Emma took a moment to appreciate the intricate tattoo artwork spreading across the entire expanse of his back. It was some sort of epic sea battle, a large ship bearing the emblem of the M.C. on a flag high on its mast.

The exploration of ink on his body stopped as he righted himself, a pistol she had failed to notice earlier in his hands. Killian’s face was focused, a cool, commanding vibe coming off him as he released the clip from the gun, checking how many rounds were still inside. Slamming it back into place with the end of his palm, he looked towards her.

“I’d tell you to stay here,” There was another knock that caused him to pause and give her a knowing smirk. “But I’d just be wasting my breath. So just…” Killian moved around the bed, looking much like she figured she had when he’d been the one outside her place. He paused at the doorway as Emma eased off the bed herself. “Stay close behind me, okay? And if I tell you to go, you get your boy and come back in here and lock the door, alright?”

Emma nodded, pressing her hand up against his bare shoulder blade. He gave a sharp nod in return, and then they were moving quietly out of the room. As they went, Emma cast a glance towards Henry’s room. Through the open door, she could see him still asleep in his bed. She silently thanked whatever deity had blessed them with that small miracle at least.

As they continued on, turning the corner of the hallway into the apartment entryway, Killian reached around with his left hand. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her up close to his back as they reached the door. Emma held her breath, peering up at the side of his face over his shoulder. He leaned in to look at through the peephole.

Killian’s whole body tensed and he let out a quiet ‘shit’ under his breath.

“Who is it?” Emma whispered, slightly scared and preparing herself for whoever it could be.

Turning, causing Emma to have to take a step back, Killian gave her a pained smile. He lightly tapped his gun against the side of his leg. “I think it  _might_ actually be better if you get it.” He leaned in and placed a kiss against her neck before brushing past her, his free hand skimming her left hip as he went.

She watched him in confusion as he moved out towards the living room, shoving his gun into the back of the tight jeans he’d crawled into her bed still wearing. “Killian?”

The door just beside her reverberated with another knock, causing her to wince slightly but not break away from watching Killian. He paused at her coffee table, picking up the pack of cigarettes he’d left there earlier. Pulling one out, he tossed the box back to the table and snatched up his lighter. He busied himself with lighting the smoke as he made his way into her kitchen.

“You should probably get that before he busts the bloody thing in.” He kept his voice low, nodding reluctantly towards the door. He placed himself back against the counter next to the sink, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He took a quick pull from the cigarette, eyeing her with a mix of trepidation and mischief. “I know from experience how persistent the Sheriff can be when he wants to get in a place.”

Emma’s eyes went wide and she whipped back to stare at the door. “Shit.” She stepped forward, pushing up on her toes to view out of the little round hole. Just as Killian had implied, she saw the warped image of her brother on the other side. Trust him and his eerie timing. “Damn it.”

“Emma?” David leaned in closer, clearly having heard her muttered words against the door. “Can I come in, please?” There was a hesitation she could hear in his tone, even through the thick wood.

She looked back to Killian. His ring finger rubbed lightly at his uninjured eyebrow, the cigarette held aloft by the middle and pointer finger of the same hand. He shrugged, clearly indicating it was up to her if she wanted to actually do as David requested. It was another test of just how committed to… whatever this was with Killian. She could tell David to leave, give herself more time to figure things out, or she could let him in and see the outlaw standing shirtless in her kitchen.

Another sit and talk, or go home.

Lifting her head and squaring her shoulders, Emma kept her eyes on Killian as she reached to her right and fumbled to unlock the door without looking. Killian dropped his hand to place the cigarette to his mouth, quirking his eyebrow up as he blew out smoke a moment later. A smile caught somewhere between affectionate and sinister spread across his lips.

Emma couldn’t stop herself from giving one back as the lock finally clicked open and she lowered her hand to the knob.


	4. Chapter 4

“Morning, officers!” Killian called out cheerily to August and Graham across the bullpen. The pair glanced up sharply from where they had been chatting around a box of donuts from Granny’s diner. “I see Storybrooke’s finest are hard at work, as always!”

“Shut up,” David growled, giving him a slight shove that almost caused Killian to stumble with his bare feet on the tile floor.

He turned on his heels, walking backwards so he could give the scowling Sheriff a pout. “Oh, there’s no need to be like that!” Killian shrugged, holding his hands up as he did so. He tried his best to hide the wince that wanted to break free as he lifted his left arm to do it. “I was just trying to start up some small talk with your colleagues.”

David none-to-gently shoved him back around and continued to march him in the direction of the station’s lone interrogation room. “You’re not here for small talk, Jones.”

Killian frowned dramatically, glancing over his shoulder. “Considering you brought me in for questioning, I’m fairly certain that’s _exactly_ what I’m here for…” He turned into the room he’d spent more than a few hours in before.

“Keep it up, asshole.” David stopped in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing himself out slightly. “You’ll find yourself in that cell _again_.”

Leaning back against the table in the middle of the room, Killian mirrored David by crossing his arms over his chest. “As much as I know you’d _love_ to, Dave,” He lifted his brows high on his head. “You can’t arrest me simply for being in your sister’s apartment. Shirtless, I might add.” He glanced down at his still-naked chest, then lifted his eyes back up and made another over-exaggerated frown, attempting to shrug again. This time, he couldn’t stop the wince that slipped out with the movement.

David smiled smugly at him. “No…” He slowly stepped over to Killian, towering over him a little more than usual with the angle Killian was leaning against the table at. “But you looking as roughed up as you do, and the three members of a rival M.C. currently breathing out of tubes at Storybrooke General, certainly seems to be pointing me in the direction of something I _can_ arrest you for.”

Killian widened his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “No idea what you’re talking about, mate.”

“Of course not.” David made a sarcastic face, then smiled with faux cheerfulness. “Perhaps some quiet time can rejog that memory of yours.” He uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckle against the door to the interrogation room. “Hope the Rapscallions can make it through the morning without their V.P.”

Killian kept his cool until David had closed the door behind him, then let all the bravado and adrenaline seep right out of him as he collapsed fully against the table. He let out a hiss, trying to rotate his left shoulder. Pain flared up from what he was positive were broken ribs, and the rest of that side of his body was stiff and aching.

He was craving a cigarette, but those had been left behind at Emma’s apartment. Much like everything else he had shown up with the night before. It was a damn good thing he’d been too tired and in too much pain to strip out of his jeans before crawling in bed with Emma. He could only imagine the reaction David would’ve had if he’d been stripped down to his briefs, or less.

Not that David’s reaction was all that fantastic as it was. Killian and Emma had known before they’d opened the door for her brother that his presence in her home wasn’t going to be well-received. The heated back-and-forth of ‘I knew it’s, ‘I told you so’s’, and ‘you don’t know anything’s was par for the course for the Nolan and Swan pair, and naturally Killian’s jabs at the Sheriff only escalated things. Still, being taking into the station had been rather low on his list of expected endings. Emma’s too, from the way she’d chewed out her brother all the way from her kitchen down to the patrol car David had carted Killian away in.

He wasn’t under arrest. David made certain of that many times in the process of him bringing Killian in. Killian had been right that David had no cause to arrest him, no matter how much it ate at him that the outlaw and his sister were clearly back at it again. But David had _also_ been right when he had probable cause to at least question Killian. A whole filing cabinet full of police reports and town history told the story of the club’s spats with Blackbeard’s crew.

Killian let out a sigh, running his right hand through his already messy hair. Part of him was yearning for the blissful ignorance he’d had only a couple days before, where the worse thing he’d had to deal with was his brother’s overbearing nature and the usual scraps that came with club life.

But then of course there’d be no Emma back in his world. And no matter how much he could daydream of the normal chaos of his life before she’d literally slammed her way back into it, Killian wouldn’t trade right now for any of the past ten years without her.

He closed his eyes, fingers still buried deep in his dark locks. She’d been more than ready to jump in her ugly yellow contraption pretending to be a car and follow him to the station.  But her brother had gone surprisingly low and brought up her kid. The way she’d glowered at David when he’d brought up not dragging Henry into this mess had made Killian both proud, and incredibly guilty.

Because as much of a dirty move it had been, David was also incredibly right in that regard. In the harsh light of day, the adrenaline of brawling and the haze created by his swirling feelings for Emma fading some, Killian realized maybe things weren’t as simple as he’d boasted to her in her living room. There was a kid they both had to consider. And being escorted off to the Sheriff’s station before the little guy had even met him didn’t bode well for whatever influence he might have on him.

Before Killian could ruminate on his future, _or_ past, anymore, the door swung back open. He puffed back up, expecting to go another round with David. But it was only Graham Humbert coming through and closing the door behind him. Killian let himself deflate a little. Not completely - it was foolish to let his guard down completely around any of the lawmen in their town. But Deputy Humbert had always been the most lenient of the Sheriff’s department, at least when it came to Killian.

“Jones,” Graham greeted with a grimaced sort of smile and nod.

Killian returned it in kind. “Morning, deputy.” He pushed off the table, doing his best to once again mask how much pain he was in, and moved around to the other side. Throwing himself into the empty chair, he gestured towards the steaming cup and donut wrapped in a napkin in Graham’s hand. “Thought I was meant to be having quiet time, not breakfast in…” He glanced around tilted his head with a full smirk on his face now. “Interrogation.”

Graham made a face. “Yeah well…” He stepped over to the table and placed the items in his hand down in front of Killian. “Emma may have called. Sounded angrier than I think I’ve ever heard her.” He shook his head and laughed a little awkwardly, resting his hand on the pistol strapped to his hip. “Before she so kindly _requested_ to speak to her brother, she made me promise to check in on you.”

Nodding, Killian lifted a brow. “We’ve never really known how to turn the Swan girl down, have we?” He said it almost offhandedly as he sat forward, studiously ignoring the look in Graham’s eyes as he glanced into the paper cup with more curiosity than it required. Like many things in town, Graham’s affections towards Emma were a secret that everybody knew. “Is this tea?”

“Yeah…” Graham took the hand off his gun to gesture at the cup, the move as awkward as his laugh had been a few moments before. “I remember you prefer it to coffee.”

Something akin to warmth spread across Killian’s chest and he glanced up at the man he’d always considered a friend, despite being on opposite ends of the law, as well as their shared feelings for the same woman. “Thank you.” He said sincerely, the biker bravado dropping from his voice.

Graham nodded and moved to leave and Killian started to tuck into the donut. But the deputy came to a stop after opening the door. He held it out with one arm, turning back to Killian with an earnest, almost pained look.

“Don’t fuck it up, Jones.”

Killian glanced up as he chewed, staring at Graham with as much intensity as the man was giving him. It didn’t take any figuring at all to understand what he meant. Dropping the donut back onto the napkin, Killian wiped at his mouth with his hand as he swallowed, and then let that come to the rest on the table as well.

“I don’t bloody intend to.” He said with all the conviction he’d conveyed the night before to Emma.

Graham seemed satisfied with the answer. He gave one final nod and made his exit, closing the door behind him and leaving Killian to his thoughts once more.

After that, Killian wasn’t too sure how much time passed before someone decided to grace him with their presence again. The only true indicator that any time had passed at all was the slowly emptying cup of tea and his overwhelming craving for a cigarette seeming to triple. By the time David came barreling through the door, carrying a file folder tucked up under his arm and looking all manner of irate, Killian was itching for some form of confrontation.

“Aw, chat with little sis not go too well?” He goaded as the Sheriff came to an abrupt stop on the other side of the table.

David rolled his eyes, dropping the file folder on the wooden surface with a loud thwack. “God damn Humbert.” He muttered as he eyed the littered remnants of Killian’s gourmet breakfast scattered about. “I see you can’t _not_ destroy something for even a little while.” He placed himself down in the seat across from Killian.

Killian shrugged and casually picked at the bits of his paper cup he had slowly torn to shreds. “I can’t help it if you don’t have an eye for modern art.” He scrunched up his nose. “I recall the designs you and the missus picked out for the house,” Killian frowned dramatically, adding a bit of a shudder in at the same time.

“You leave my wife out of this.” David growled, pointing his finger at Killian menacingly. “Better yet, leave my sister out of it too.”

Leaning back in his chair so it tilted up on its back legs, Killian shrugged a shoulder, the exaggerated frown still on his face. “You’re sister’s already been in this, mate.” He ran the thumb of his right hand over the knuckles on his left, a grin spreading his lips wide. “Or should that be the other way around…”

David shot up from his chair, both hands firmly planted on the table. “I will fucking arrest you!”

Dropping the chair back down, Killian glanced up at him through his lashes with a look so innocent, it could give puppies a run for their money. “But  _what for_ , Sheriff Nolan? Whatever you damn well please?” He pouted and shook his head. “And I thought we’d rid ourselves of the last Sheriff like that…” His blue eyes roamed up and down David’s body. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, aye?”

He pretty much expected it, the punch to the face that followed his sass. Still, Killian was impressed David had it in him to do it right in the middle of his own police station. He couldn’t help but laugh in some twisted sense of victory even as he reached up to brush his fingers against his now-aching jaw.

“Assaulting an innocent man... ” Killian nodded. “Yep, just like dear ol’ dad.”

David stood panting, looking caught somewhere between wanting to slap cuffs on Killian right then and there, and shameful that he’d let his temper get the better of him. After a couple of moments, with Killian staring up at him challengingly, he took a deep breath and seemed to find some sense of composure.

“You’re anything but innocent,” He finally replied, rubbing at the reddening knuckles on his right hand as he reclaimed his seat. “And we both know it.” He flipped open the folder.

“I’m the not the one who just hit someone.”

David slid a picture from the file across the table at Killian. “Doesn’t look like that to me.”

Killian leaned in to get a better look, his fingers still rubbing absently at his jaw. It was a photo of a man in a hospital bed, face beaten and swollen all to hell. The aforementioned breathing tube was coming out of his mouth. And despite all the discoloration and swelling, the tattoo that indicated he was one of Blackbeard’s crew was still visible on the side of his neck.

“You’re into some kinky shit, David.” Killian snorted, sitting back in his chair.

David’s glare was an expectant and unimpressed one. “You’re really gonna tell me you had nothing to do with this?”

Shrugging, Killian held out the hand on his jaw. “I had nothing to do with this.” He parroted. And he wasn’t completely lying. That particular man in the photo had been all Scarlet’s doing. Killian wasn’t exactly a repeated face-punching kind of man.

Still looking completely unswayed by Killian’s response, David thrust two more pictures towards him. Like before, the men on them were bloodied and intubated. And like before, Killian could easily say neither of them were his handiwork. Fox and Merlin on the other hand…

Suddenly David’s demeanor changed, like this had led exactly where he’d figured. He smiled in a sickly sweet sort of way that made the hairs on the back of Killian’s neck rise up. Killian never let it show on his face, but clearly David was directing this somewhere he hadn’t mentioned.

“Okay, then,” David nodded in acquiescence. He leaned forward and snatched up the photos, dropping them on top of the paperwork in the folder. He then pulled another piece of paper from the very bottom, a photo attached by a paperclip to the top. He slowly lowered it to the table for Killian to see. “How about this man?”

Killian recognized the face immediately. The scent of blood seemed to fill his nostrils as he remembered the guy’s guts spilling all over the floor of the boathouse. He’d hardly had a second thought about the man they’d left for shark chum a couple weeks back. Yet there he was, right on the glossy paper in front of him.

“Should I?” Killian inquired, keeping his demeanor cool and collected as he continued to give David the doe-in-the-headlights stare. “I mean,” He reached forward and picked up the paper the photo was still attached to. He pretended to eye it critically. “He looks far too clean cut to be anybody I’d have dealings with.” He glanced back at David, a mild look of confusion falling into place. “Who the bloody hell is he?”

“Isaac Heller,” David said, leaning forward to snatch the paper from Killian’s hands as he started to examine the details on it more closely. “Accountant for Gold Business. Was reported missing weeks ago…”

Killian shook his head. “Sorry, mate.” He held up his hand. “I know nothing about that.”

Frowning in a way that made Killian realize it wasn’t sincere, David reached into the depths of the paperwork within the folder until he found something that had been purposely marked. “That’s interesting,” He said as he deliberately handed another paper out to Killian this time. It was Killian’s turn to frown, his very much real, as he reached out and took the paper.

It was another group of photos, this one taking up the whole paper. Killian couldn’t help but feel his composure start to slip a little as he realized what he was looking at.

“So you’re telling me the Vice President of the Rapscallion Rogers wasn’t aware that a member of his own M.C. was having frequent meetings with Heller and Neal Cassidy?”

Killian continued to frown as he stared at the picture, running his tongue across his bottom lip. The truth was _he_ hadn’t been aware. Not a damn word about this from Liam or any of the club, which seemed impossible. But it was clear as day right there on the page in front of him. Several images put together of Isaac Heller, the man Killian had gutted weeks ago, Arthur Pendragon of the Rapscallions, and the heir to the Gold business fortune, his oldest son Neal.

Swallowing, Killian closed his eyes and lifted his head. He opened them a moment later and threw the collage of photos back at David. “I don’t know a damn thing.” There was a bite to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“I don’t believe you.” David responded matter-of-factly, the edge in his voice return.

Killian laughed humorlessly. “Believe whatever the hell you want, Sheriff. I don’t have a bloody thing to tell you about any of this, and even if I _did_ ,” He sat forward and rested his arms on the table. “You’d really think I’d ever rat on my own club? To _you_ , of all people?”

“That’s withholding information,” David sat forward slightly so he could unclip the handcuffs from his belt. He placed them threateningly on the table between them.

Scoffing, Killian batted David’s hand holding the cuffs away with the back of his hand in challenge. “Please, I just told you I know fuck all, and you’ve got no way to prove otherwise.” He leaned in and sneered. “You’ve got nothing and you know it.”

“How about possession and child endangerment?” David suggested, the same tone to his voice as when he brought up Henry to Emma earlier that morning. “I saw that pistol you tried to hide away before you so _kindly_ volunteered to come in to the station. And I bet if I went back to Emma’s place and searched your things, I’d find your pot stash among it all? _Those_ are things I can arrest you for.”

Killian pushed to his feet, pointing at David much like the man had done to him before. “Leave Emma out of this.”

David slowly rose to his own. “She’s already _in it_ , as you so smugly declared earlier.” He reached out and slapped the cuff around Killian’s wrist.

Jerking his arm back, Killian’s glare was near murderous. “You really are a bloody bastard, just like your father.”

David looked unperturbed by the reference this time, moving to drag Killian around the table so he could pull his other arm behind his back to secure in the handcuffs. But the door to the interrogation room flew open before David could finish the action.

“Boss…” Graham looked bewildered and agitated at the same time. “You should come out here.”

David glared at his deputy. “I’m a little busy here, Humbert. Start drawing up the paperwork for Jones’ arrest.” He turned back to finish cuffing Killian up. Killian, for his part, continued to squirm to make it more difficult for him. “He’s spending the rest of the day in a cell until big brother decides to bail him out.”

“Boss, I really don’t think that’s a good id-”

“Nolan!”

Both Killian and David instantly tensed at the shout that came from somewhere out in the bullpen. Killian turned to share a wide-eyed look of shock with the Sheriff before both turned in the direction of the door. Killian felt his body become more and more tense at the sound of approaching footsteps. He pulled air deep into his lungs as they neared the door, and it all came out in a shuddered breath as the familiar figure stepped into the doorway.

“It would be in your best interest to unhand Killian right now, Sheriff.”

Killian couldn’t blame David as the man seemed to shrink a little from where he was standing behind him. He knew that feeling of intimidation all too well. He’d spent his entire life surround by it, trying so hard to fight it, and still ending up living by it. That’s all anybody really could do where the former president of the M.C. was concerned. Brennan Jones had always cast a big shadow, and that hadn’t changed in the years since he’d handed the reins of the club over to his two oldest children.

“Hello, Pop.” Despite that ache building in his gut of knowing he was disappointing the man in front of him, Killian couldn’t stop the sassy greeting from slipping out.

\-----

The clubhouse was alive with activity as Killian followed his father through the main entryway. There was frantic scrambling going on as members, old ladies, and all the manner of trusted hangerons went about trying to secure the cargo from their botched job the night before. But it didn’t stop Fox and Scarlet from noticing Killian’s grand reappearance.

“Fucking hell, mate!” Scarlet shouted as they approached Killian. His father stopped to give him an impatient look and Killian waved him off with a nod. Brennan rolled his eyes and continued on into the main meeting room where Killian could only assume his brother was brooding. “Where the goddamn did you get to last night?”

“And where is your shirt?” Fox added. He looked at Killian with a mix of concern and amusement, taking in his current state of undress.

“I’ll explain later, mates.” Killian sighed, holding his hand out towards Robin. “Could you lend me your shirt? I’m sure Liam is already in a damn foul mood as it is.”

Will snorted. “That’s a bloody understatement.” He looked between Robin, who was stripping off his cut with a reluctant sigh so he could loan Killian his shirt. “You just disappeared into thin fucking air, no notice, no word, beat all to hell...”

Killian rolled his eyes and nodded. The wince he let out as he took the shirt from Fox and started to pull it over his head only seemed to emphasize Scarlet’s point.

“The only reason we knew you weren’t kidnapped was Red saw you slip out the back door.” Fox sighed as he pulled his cut back on over his naked, tattooed torso. “Passed out on the side of the road somewhere was another story. Where did you go, Kil? And where were you all morning?”

Pulling his skull and dagger pendants out from beneath the fabric now covering his chest, Killian sighed. “Like I said,” He patted Will on the shoulder as he moved to pass him, leaving the two men staring after him. “I’ll explain after the high interrogation from dear Brother Admiral.”

Killian then turned and pushed his way through the door into what was arguably the most important room in the clubhouse. It housed the long mahogany table, with the club’s insignia carved deep into it, where all important club matters were meant to take place. As he expected, his brother sat glaring at him from the head of it. But before he could meet that confrontation head on, he was met with his father standing right in front of him.

“Pop…” Killian rocked back on his still-bare heels. “I assume you will be joining in on this dressing down too?”

Brennan smirked and lightly patted Killian on his upper arm. “No, son. This is between you and your big brother. I did my wrangling…” He leaned and winked and it made it all the more obvious just how much like this man Killian really was. He both prided himself on it, and hated it. “Now I’m gonna go have a drink and see how Lee is doing. His mama is constantly worrying about him these days.”

With that, the older man stepped around him and back out into the chaos of the rest of the clubhouse. Killian rolled his eyes at his father once again avoiding as much as could that had to do with him and the eldest Liam. Then he turned back to begin his now second interrogation of the day.

“Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.” Liam muttered, his chin sitting in his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “I was starting to worry.”

“Is that why you sent in the calvary…” Killian muttered back, throwing himself into the chair just to Liam’s left. The movement reminded him once more just how roughed up he was and he let out a pained hiss, tugging at the sleeve over his left arm like it would aleve anything.

Liam sat forward. “I called Pop because you went off the grid and I know the only damn person who can fish you out when you do that is our father.” He gave Killian a mocking smirk. “Can never say no to dear ol’ da.”

Scowling, Killian kicked out at his brother’s shin. “Look who’s fucking talking, President family legacy.” He spat with agitation.

Glowering back, Liam sat back against his chair again and draped both arms over the wooden ones at his sides. “You wear that V.P. patch on your cut, _little brother_ , just as much as the President one sits here,” He reached up and tapped at said patch pointedly. Then he frowned, seeming to take in exactly what Killian was wearing. Or rather, not wearing in this case. “Where’s your cut? In fact, what are you dressed in?”

He leaned over the side of the table to take a glance at Killian’s dirty bare feet. “Where are your bloody shoes?”

The tone of his brother’s voice, that reprimanding older brother one that he’d been hearing long before either of them were even prospecting for the club, had Killian flushing in embarrassment. He felt like he was thirteen all over again, busted when he’d tried to sneak some of their Pop’s expensive rum out for a fun night with Emma. To make matters worse, the sole reason he was currently underdressed and without his cut was _because_ of Emma.

“Well, you see-”

“Does this explanation have something to do with why David Nolan had you locked up at the station?”

Killian winced, and it had nothing to do with the constant ache running up his side now. “Technically Dave didn’t have me locked up _just_ yet. He was close when Pop came and did his old power swagger thing of his.” At Liam’s waiting look, Killian shrugged. “I may have _provoked_ him… _a little_.”

Crossing is arms, Liam kept his expectant look on his younger brother. “Provoked how?” When Killian licked at his lip and looked towards the dingy window just over Liam’s left shoulder, Liam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t…”

“Liam-”

The older man pushed up from his seat. “God damn it, Killian!” He growled as he threw his hands into the air. He began pacing the length of the table. “You _promised_ me that you wouldn’t let this screw you up again.” Liam turned, grabbing the back of the chair he’d stopped behind in a vice grip. “That _she_ wouldn’t become an issue.”

“I’m not getting bloody screwed up,” Killian retorted, rising from his seat. He grimaced in pain, slowly moving around the table towards his brother. “ _She_ isn’t the issue here.”

Liam laughed incredulously. “Really, little brother?!” He released his death grip on the chair with one hand to hold it out in Killian’s direction patronizingly. “Look at you! Instead of staying _here_ like you should have last night, getting patched up by Whale, you crawled your way over to her and then let that get you in hot water with the Sheriff.” He threw the same hand up in the air in exasperation. “Which is now making it a club problem!”

“It was already a fucking club problem, Liam!” Killian shouted.

His older brother frowned, hand dropping to his side. “What do you mean?”

Killian felt some of the adrenaline sap away at how quickly Liam seemed to catch on to the concern in his voice. For all that he butted heads with his brother, Liam was usually quite good at reading him when it came to serious issues. It’s why, for all they argued, they made a good pair to lead the M.C.

“David didn’t come to Emma’s apartment to take me in,” He shook his head, moving in closer to his brother. “Hell, if the club couldn’t find me, you really think the Storybrooke Sheriff’s department could figure it out?” Liam snorted at that, and both shared a smile at the obvious jab towards the less than stellar detective work of the law in their town at times.

But then Killian sobered quickly and Liam followed suit. “He was coming by to apologize for being an asshole to her yesterday. But then the very reason they had argued to begin with was standing in her kitchen,” Killian waved a hand up and down his body to indicate himself. “And the asshole sheriff came out again.”

“I thought you said this was a club problem…” Liam shook his head in confusion.

“David brought me in for questioning about the brawl with Blackbeard’s crew last night.” Killian revealed quietly, glancing to the door for a brief moment just to be sure nobody would be waltzing through it. “Three of the guys we left for dead out by the highway ended up at Storybrooke General last night.”

Liam’s confusion slowly started to morph into a silent fury that could only be attributed to one of the Jones family. “What?”

Nodding, Killian stepped in even closer. “He had a whole file of shit that he was trying to get me to squawk on. Pages of information and pictures. Not just Blackbeard’s men, but…” He sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his head.

“But what, Killian?”

“Heller!” Killian hissed, looking back up sharply at his brother. “He had everything about Isaac Heller in there too. And he knew it connected to the club because there were other pictures with all of it - pictures of him and Neal Cassidy and…” He inhaled sharply, angrily. “Arthur.”

Eyes going wide, Liam gave a minute shake of his head. “That’s not true.”

Taking a step back, Killian practically gaped at him. “I saw it with my own two eyes, Liam.”

“Then it’s a fucking fake. David and his bumbling buffoons finally figured out how to bloody photoshop,” He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “David’s had it out for this club ever since you and his sister…” He stopped, growled, and brushed past Killian to head back towards his seat. “I knew Emma Swan coming back to this town was going to be more trouble than you said.”

“This has _nothing_ to _do_ with Emma!” Killian cried, turning in unison with Liam as he moved past. “You said it yourself, Liam - they’re a bunch of buffoons when it comes to technology!” He held out his hand towards him. “You really think in the short time they had me in interrogation that they’d be able to concoct something like that?”

Liam’s face turned stony. “You wouldn’t have been in interrogation to begin with if you’d just kept your ass where it belonged last night.”

With a loud growl, Killian turned away from his brother and reached up to run his hand through his hair. _Usually_ Liam was quite good at reading him, except at times like this. Times when Killian questioned the loyalty to the club. It wasn’t the first time he’d brought up something about Arthur to his brother and found himself pretty much ramming over and over into a brick wall. Liam valued devotion and loyalty above all things, and Arthur was as loyal as they came - or so Liam had been made to believe.

“Liam,” Killian eventually sighed, turning back to his brother. Anything else he was planning to say was cut off by a hasty knock to the door. Both brothers looked in its direction as Ariel cautiously popped her head through the door.

“Sorry to interrupt…” She shrugged contritely before looking from Liam to Killian. “But you’ve got a visitor, Cap.”

Frowning, Killian moved to the door and left it open behind him as he made his way out of the meeting room. His attention instantly landed on the vision of blonde and red leather standing near the club’s main entrance. Before he could think, he was moving in her direction.

“Emma…” He called to her, both desperate and baffled.

She moved to meet him halfway, not even bothering to consider they were surrounded by his entire M.C. as she threw her arms around his neck and leaned into him. He caught her easily, the pain from the movement barely even registering over the feel of her in his arms.

“Hey, you okay?” He whispered, pulling back after a moment to catch her green-eyed gaze. She looked almost frantic. “Your boy? Is he okay?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, Henry’s okay. I managed to get Mary Margaret over to watch him.” She rolled her eyes. “Made me promise I’d explain everything. Which really fucking sucks but…” She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “I had to come get you away from that fucking brother of mine. I was on my way to the station when Graham called and said you’d been picked up by your dad?”

Killian snorted. “Yeah,” He shrugged sheepishly. “I may have gone off the grid when I came to you this morning. Club was kinda at a loss… called in the big guns.”

“You never do anything easy, Jones.” Emma laughed breathily.

He rolled his eyes. “Says the woman whose brother brought me in without letting me get bloody dressed first.”

“Oh!” Emma stepped back and flipped open the top of the bag slung across her chest. She pulled a familiar bunch of leather from within it, holding it up for him to see. “I have the rest in the car, but I figured you’d want this first.”

Killian smiled softly at his cut in her hands. He reached out to grab it, but then stopped and glanced around. It was obvious they had caught the attention of the entire place, though everyone was doing a piss poor job of pretending they weren’t watching. Everyone except Liam, who was standing in the doorway to the meeting room. He was watching Killian and Emma like a hawk, a frown on his face.

Turning back to Emma, who was obviously trying her best to ignore all the looks being thrown their way, Killian tipped his chin up towards the cut. “You should do the honors.”

Emma gazed at him thoughtfully, seeming to catch on to exactly what he was doing by asking. It was just like back in her kitchen earlier that morning. This was his way of showing her, showing _everybody_ that mattered in his life, how he was committing to her.

She nodded.

Killian turned, slouching down slightly so she could ease the leather vest over his shoulders carefully. He kept his gaze straight on his brother, even as he adjusted the cut once it was in place and Emma came around his side.

“That good?” She asked as he tucked her into his side.

He looked from Liam down to her, and smiled. “Perfect.” He answered quietly before pressing a kiss against her forehead. The sound of the meeting room door slamming shut was quick to follow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologize for still having not responded to the lovely comments you guys are leaving! I promise as soon as I get a good moment, I'll respond! I am seeing every single one though and it makes me so happy you all are enjoying the story! Also, please be aware that this is the chapter the discussion of abortion warning is for.

Chaos and tranquility was the best way Emma would probably describe what her life had become in only the first couple of months since she’d returned home.

The chaos was a given, considering she’d gone from not even speaking to her ex-boyfriend when she’d come back to Storybrooke to taking him up on a rather passionate and insistent offer to move into his coastal home. Killian hadn’t seemed comfortable with her living in her former apartment, and it didn’t take much to convince her that Moe French was indeed a shady, swindling asshole. Especially when it got around town that she was hooked up with the Rapscallions once more.

But moving in with him seemed like an enormous leap of faith, one precariously balanced on a still recovering foundation, and one that had sent David spiraling even deeper into his animosity towards Killian and the club. Much like it had been when she was teenager, she was finding herself stuck between lawman and outlaw. David had screamed and then painfully pleaded with her not to put herself back in that place, pointing out that he had been the reason she had decided to come home in the first place and wouldn’t she think of that? Or think of Henry?

Which had ultimately been why she _had_ taken the leap of faith and agreed to have all her and her son’s things moved over the course of a weekend by Killian and a handful of the other club members. Because where her relationship with her brother was fast coming apart at the seams, and her relationship with her former ex was only starting to find its stride again, not to mention all the people caught in the middle of both. Plus, the blossoming connection between Henry Swan and Killian Jones wasn’t something she could easily overlook.

The fact was, Henry had taken to Killian like a duck to water. And it wasn’t even remotely one-sided. Killian adored Henry, cherished him in a way no man in the young boy’s life ever had. He listened to his toddler rambling and was the first to jump in to teach him all about whatever he wanted to know. It’d only been a couple of months, but there was no doubting how much of a presence Killian had come to be in her son’s life.

And she’d choose his health and happiness over any turmoil in her life any time.

That was where the tranquility of her life came into the picture.

Leaning against the doorway to Killian’s expansive bedroom, Emma took a sip from her coffee mug as she continued to survey the scene before her. The room was awash in the white light of early morning, the breeze coming off the ocean - through the window Killian refused to close at night - filling the room with a fresh, relaxing scent. It rustled at the wispy curtains hanging around the window, and played at the edges of Killian’s hair from where he was still asleep in the bed across from her. She couldn’t see him from where she stood, Killian’s inked back hiding him from sight, but she knew Henry was serenely asleep alongside him. It made her heart flutter. Not just to see it, but to recall how the whole thing had come about the night before.

He’d come home late, for reasons he’d yet to make clear to her. She knew it had something to do with the club, but it wasn’t necessarily anything official? The details were definitely not all there and she’d made a mental note to bring it up as soon as they got the opportunity. She was still insistent that they stay open and honest with each other, no matter how difficult the subject matter might be. And Killian had been good about it, up until just the past few days.

But she’d fallen asleep, Henry curled up in bed beside her, before he’d made it home the night before. She’d woken to the sounds of Killian trying to quietly change into something more comfortable to sleep in, and had started to get up to take Henry back to his own room.

 _‘No, it’s alright_ . _’_ Killian had whispered softly, stepping over to the bed to place a kiss to her lips. Even in the very dim light being cast by the moon through the window, she could see the bruising lining the right side of his jaw. The soft, affectionate look in his eyes had halted her movements, as well as her questions, at least for that moment. _‘Let him stay and go back to sleep. I’ll just be a couple more minutes.’_

She must have done just that because the next thing she knew, sunlight had started to creep through the window and Killian was softly snoring on the bed beside her, her son still fast asleep between them.

Stirring from the bed broke her mind out of remembering how she’d come to that morning and she watched as Henry started to fidget in his sleep. It was the clear sign he was working his way back to the waking world. Emma moved to place her mug on the dresser a handful of paces off to her right so she would able to handle a waking toddler with both hands free. But Killian’s sleep-heavy voice froze her in her tracks.

“You waking up, little one?” He mumbled into the top of Henry’s head, laying a gentle kiss there. From where she had stopped, she could now see both clearly. Henry nodded, eyes still closed, and rubbed his nose against Killian’s arm that he was using as a pillow.

Killian chuckled, the sound warm and causing Emma to bite at her bottom lip. “Alright then,” He wrapped Henry up in his arms and turned. The three year old giggled as he came to rest atop Killian’s chest. “Guess I better wake up too then, aye?”

“Aye.” Henry repeated in agreement.

Smiling, Killian brought one hand up to ruffle at Henry’s messy, dark hair. He then turned his bright blue eyes on her. “Morning, love.”

The sight looked so natural, Killian with her boy. Like it was meant to be. The feelings of contentment and tranquility suddenly seemed to sour in her gut. Despite her attempt to keep the distress off her face, Killian instantly picked up on it.

“Emma?” He frowned, settling Henry back to the mattress as he rose up. “Are you alright?” He quickly scrambled off the bed, leaving a confused Henry looking on sleepily, and made his way over to her. “What’s wrong?” Killian placed his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her to face him. He leaned his head down slightly and searched her eyes.

“I…” She trembled slightly, staring at him helplessly. Memories of being sixteen, feeling terrified and knowing they were so woefully unprepared and unable to handle the mess they’d gotten themselves into, overwhelmed her. It was almost sickly poetic how Killian had nearly the same look on his face now as he’d had the day she’d collapsed sobbing into his arms, a positive pregnancy test clutched between her fingers.

Killian brushed his thumbs softly over her shoulders. “Emma, please… talk to me?”

“Mama, you okay?” Henry mumbled from the end of the bed and it suddenly seemed to snap Emma out of the trance of painful memories.

The regrets of her past still churned her stomach, but she gave a shake of her head, closing her eyes and stepping out of Killian’s grasp. “I gotta,” She pulled in a sharp breath, opening her eyes and moving to scoop Henry off the bed. “Get Henry his breakfast.” She finished, hastily making her way from the bedroom, deliberately ignoring the uncertain look Killian was giving her as she passed.

\-----

Resting his arms down on the wooden railing that circled his back porch, Killian watched from a short distance as Emma helped Henry toddle along the beach, pointing out seashells for him to pick up and put in the bucket she was holding. It made him smile, pulling the cigarette from his lips as he did, despite the fact that he was still processing everything that had happened in the past several hours. Some of it was the ‘unofficial’ club business from the night before, but the majority of it was Emma.

She had been doing her best to navigate her way around him since her still unexplained freak-out earlier. She hadn’t outright ignored him, but she’d moved away from his attempts at affection or trying to get her attention long enough to figure out what the hell had happened. Killian had initially wondered if the club business was the reason. He’d admittedly been a bit secretive as of late, something he knew she hated, but he was doing it out of safety for her and her boy.

And that was where Killian suddenly realized, as he’d made his way through the surprise chocolate chip pancakes Emma had whipped up for breakfast, the issues were stemming from. Because while she was practically tiptoeing around Killian, Emma had been laser-focused on Henry. Hamming it up for him to make him smile and giggle, not being more than a couple feet from the young boy at all times.

She was supermoming in a way he hadn’t ever really witnessed from her before. Like she was trying to compensate for something she’d done wrong.

It made his heart ache realizing why even the inkling of such an idea would come to her. She’d gone white as ghost in his bedroom earlier, and as he thought back on it, it hit him that it was after she’d been watching him with Henry. Because naturally her memories would send her spiralling back to when they were teenagers. His certainly had as the pieces all fell into place.

Taking one final pull from his cigarette, he flicked it down into the sand below before pushing off the railing. He slowly made his way down the wooden steps that gave way into soft beach, resting his hand lightly against his belt buckle. He stood just off from the stairway, resting his back against the wooden handrail and watching as Emma and Henry slowly meandered their way towards him, not seeming to be aware of his presence yet.

“So, if you’d like,” Killian said softly as the pair finally came within earshot. Emma’s head snapped up quickly as his words, her expression a little bewildered. Like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to skirt around him some more, or just face him head on. Henry seemed more focused on finding his shells, bending down where they had stopped to poke through the sand some more.

The fact that she seemed to be waiting for him to continue was a good indicator of which one she’d settled on.

“I can call Elsa and say Henry’s feeling a little under the weather and you’d rather just stay home with him tonight?” Killian suggested as he straightened. He took a few cautious steps towards her. “You two can have a nice night in, and I can head to the club for the bonfire by myself. Make an appearance for a couple hours like a good V.P., and then come home.”

When Emma just continued to stare, her eyes going only slightly wider at his suggestion, Killian shrugged and gave his head a slight shake. “Or not come home and just crash in my room at the clubhouse tonight?” He gave an encouraging nod of his head, his eyes misting up slightly as the next words fell from his lips.

“It’s your choice to make, love. Always has been, always will be.”

They were the exact same words he’d whispered to her ten years earlier, when they’d come to the decision that they weren’t going to keep the baby.

It had the desired effect and Killian was quick to take Emma into his arms as the shaky walls she’d been trying to throw back up all morning came crashing down hard. Tears welled up in her eyes and he could feel her try to suppress a sob into his neck.

“‘M sorry.” She sniffled against him.

Killian pressed his hand gently to the back of her head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Emma. We _both_ made a decision a decade ago,” He shifted so he could look her in the eye, cupping her face between his hands. “We _weren’t_ ready. And even if I thought maybe we could’ve been,” Emma’s face scrunched up as he said it and he rested his forehead against hers. “That was never going to matter because I was always going to stand by what _you_ wanted. I still do, okay?”

He placed a light kiss to her lips. “Okay?”

She nodded shakily, kissing him back with a little more force after a moment.

When they pulled apart, Killian stepped back slightly so he could wipe the tears from her cheeks with the back of his fingers. He was relieved to see the anguish that had been haunting her green eyes all morning seemed to be fading away. “You want me to call Elsa?”

Emma closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. “No,” She said after a moment with a shake of her head. She reopened her eyes and he saw the stubborn Swan determination he loved so much shining back at him. “Elsa’s been really looking forward to the kids all hanging out.” A guilty look cast a bit of a shadow over her gaze once more. “Besides, Liam already doesn’t like me much. I’d hate to upset his heavily pregnant old lady…”

Killian rolled his eyes. “Fuck Liam…” Truth was, Liam wasn’t exactly high on Killian’s list of favorite people at the moment.

Tilting her head a fraction, Emma wrinkled her nose a little. “I’m pretty sure Elsa’s already got that covered.”

Snorting, Killian gave a slight shake of his head and was about to make some crude remark about the sex habits of his eldest brother and sister-in-law, but a tug on his jeans stopped him quickly. He glanced down to see Henry holding a tiny iridescent shell up to him.

“For Tilly,” the boy grinned happily.

“For me?” Killian beamed, crouching down and taking the shell into his hand. The other he reached up to wrap around Emma’s. “Wow, this is pretty badass, lad.” He said enthusiastically, earning a giggle from Henry. He looked up, moving the shell upwards as he went, to show Emma. “Isn’t this awesome, love?”

Emma nodded. “Oh yeah, very awesome.” She turned a proud smile on her son. “That was very nice of you to get that for Killian, Henry.”

Henry giggled again and threw himself at Killian, who let out an exaggerated ‘oomph’ and dramatically fell back into the sand. He then wrapped his arm tightly around Henry, the shell still tightly gripped in his fist as he did. Resting his cheek atop the boy’s head, he glanced up to see Emma watching the pair. Tears were forming in her eyes again, only this time she looked like she was witnessing something beautiful.

It made Killian feel lighter than air and he smiled affectionately for her, giving Henry a little bit of a squeeze as he did so.

\-----

“Easy now, love,” Killian reached out and stilled Emma’s bouncing knee with a gentle squeeze of his fingers, waiting until the road in front of him was clear before turning to give her a reassuring look. She turned from looking out the window to offer a hesitant sort of half-smile that was not even close to reaching her eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re so fidgety,” He continued on, throwing a quick glance in the rearview mirror to check on Henry in his carseat. He then returned his attention to the road. His hand stayed lightly resting against Emma’s knee. “It’s not like you and Elsa haven’t been reacquainted since you came home.”

He could see Emma shrug out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not about being _reacquainted_ ,” She said, adding a poor imitation of his accent on at the end. Killian rolled his eyes and smirked. When Emma stayed quiet for a moment too long, the smirk turned into a signature eyebrow lift, which he turned on her. She looked as if she was struggling to say what she wanted to say, teeth nibbling at the side of her bottom lip. She almost looked… _embarrassed._

“Emma…” Killian urged, eyebrow lifting higher somehow.

She let out a defeated growl, low in the back of her throat. “She’s intimidating, okay?” Flopping back in her seat, earning a giggle from the _actual_ toddler in the back, Emma’s head flopped to the side so she could look at Killian. He could feel her petulant stare as his attention moved back to his driving. “She’s _always_ been intimidating. So just… _cool_.”

Killian made a face. “She is popularly known as the Ice Bitch of Storybrooke.”

Growling again, Emma reached out and slapped at the top of his hand. He snorted and pulled his hand back with a playful shake. He threw a brief wink to Henry in the reflection of the mirror as the little boy continued to giggle at the antics of the grown ups.

“You _know_ that’s not what I mean…” Emma grumbled. “And does your brother _know_ you still call his wife and the mother of his children that?”

“Please,” Killian gave her an incredulous look. “Who do you think gave her the moniker in the first place? You remember when we were kids, how they circled each other like two fighting dogs…?” Emma nodded as she recalled the timebomb that had been Liam Jones and Elsa Arendelle all through middle and high school. “Well, now they just get all that out in the bedroom.”

Emma made a face. “Explains all the kids.”

Killian laughed sharply. “Aye.”

He glanced over to find her staring out the window again. There was still some tension making her shoulders look stiff, but she beat him to the punch on addressing it. “That doesn’t make her any less intimidating, ya know?” Emma looked back to him. “If anything, it makes her _more_ intimidating. She stuck through everything with your brother… the club, the kids….”

Her green eyes dimmed with self-doubt. “Where does that leave me?”

“Emma,” Killian sighed, busying himself with turning the Chevelle onto the long, expansive driveway that led up to his childhood home. The gaudy, almost castle-like mansion loomed even from the short distance. It didn’t much help the point he was about to try and make to his girlfriend, but he couldn’t really help where his older brother now lived and the shit timing of the conversation.

He put the car into park just as the back wheels made it onto the pristine pavement of the driveway, and turned as much as he could in the confines of his muscle car to give Emma his full attention. She was watching him in surprise, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt stopping of the car.

Reaching out, he took both of her hands in his. He gently ran his thumbs over her fingers. “Love, comparing yourself to Elsa would be like if I were to compare myself to my brother. It’s foolhardy.” Killian lightly squeezed her fingers, emphasizing the look passing from his blue eyes to her green. “We were _never_ gonna be like them. Holding yourself to that standard is…”

“Foolhardy?” Emma parroted his previously chosen world.

Killian smiled stupidly. “Aye, foolhardy.”

She smiled for him briefly, and then sobered. “I get what you’re saying, Killian. I do.” She gave a nod for emphasis. “But it’s been hard coming back, and jumping right back in with you. Between my brother and your family, and your _club_ …” She gave a one-shouldered shrug and glanced warily up towards the gigantic house before them. “It feels like there are eyes on us all the time, judging me _especially_ , for not being what a good biker’s lady should be.” Emma looked back to him. “For not being more like your sister-in-law.”

Letting go of one of her hands, Killian reached up and softly cupped the side of her face. Emma leaned into it some, her gaze on his worried and unsure. “I know, love.” He ran his ring-clad thumb along her cheek. “It’s not been particularly easy for me either. Everybody is so damn intent on reminding me how we left things before…” She looked pained at his words. Killian leaned in closer. “But I don’t bloody care. I’m in this for long haul,”

He paused and then smirked self-deprecatingly, tilting his head to the side. “Or at least as long as you’ll put up with me?”

Emma smile returned, this one soft, as she closed the distance between them for a kiss. She had clearly meant for it to be brief, loving, but it began to stretch beyond that, both starting to rise out of their seats as far as their seat belts would let them, desperately clinging to each other. It wasn’t until an angry, lengthy honk from behind had them breaking apart. They glanced out the rear window to see an exasperated-looking Robin laying on the horn.

“If you’re gonna put on a bloody show, at least provide some refreshments!” They could hear him shout through the open windows.

Killian sat back and stuck a middle finger up out the window before shifting the car back into drive and easing it up the driveway, Emma resettling herself into her own seat as they went. By the time they reached the sprawling front of the house, the tension had returned to her posture. Killian threw the Chevelle back into park and swiftly exited the car, making his way around to the other side before Emma even had a chance to properly unbuckle her seatbelt.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide as he yanked open her door and leaned into the car, his left arm resting atop the roof.

“Love, stop.” There was a little more hardness to his tone now, though it wasn’t any less loving than it had been before. “You really don’t have to get yourself worked up over Elsa, or Liam, or anybody else in the club. I promise you. If they wanna act like you’re spoiled goods, they’ll fast remember I’m the keeper of a lot of bloody secrets around here.”

Emma’s eyebrows lifted at that, her head tilting curiously.

Killian grinned mischievously, his one eyebrow lifting. He stepped back a bit from the car, holding his hand out to her invitingly. “Now come on… we’ll get Henry settled, and then go have some fun.”

Pulling in a deep breath, Emma unclipped her seatbelt and turned in her seat. She reached out and took his hand.

\-----

As the evening continued on, Emma slowly started to feel the tension from being the center of attention among the club members ebb away. The hit she’d taken from the joint Killian had lit as soon as they’d arrived at the clubhouse for the bonfire, and the subsequent beers after that, likely had a lot to do with it. Not only was she feeling good, but nearly all the members of the club around her were in equal or deeper states of bliss.

Part of her felt guilty for leaving her son behind with all the other children at the Jones mansion, but Henry had seemed overjoyed to have a bunch of kids to play with. Plus, she was well within walking distance if something happened. It was why she’d decided to slow down her partying a bit and reached for a bottle of water in one of the many coolers scattered about the open area outside the clubhouse. The bonfire was raging on a short distance away, closer to the water.

“Tapping out on me already, Swan?” Killian pressed himself up behind her as she sipped from the bottle, his breath laced with the faint scent of rum and weed. There was a pleasant slowness to his words - not quite slurring, but not as sharp as they usually were. He buried his nose against her neck, placing a kiss against her damp skin.

Emma smiled as she swallowed. “Just pacing myself,” She turned in his arms, keeping a little bit of distance between them so she could hold the water up close to his lips. “Think maybe you should too?” Neither one of them had to drive - they had their choice of either walking back to Liam and Elsa’s, or crashing in Killian’s room at the clubhouse. But Emma still had some niggling feeling in the back of her head that maybe it was better they both didn’t get completely obliterated.

Squinting his hazy blue eyes at her, Killian seemed to consider her innocent request. Emma raised an eyebrow, tapping the edge of the bottle against his bottom lip lightly. After a moment of staring each other down, Killian rolled his eyes playfully and crouched down slightly. Emma raised the bottle upwards, and he wrapped his hand around hers as he drained the rest of it empty.

“Well, that’s the strangest thing I’ve ever bloody seen.” Will slurred as he ambled his way over to them, half-empty bottle of whiskey swinging between his fingers. Some scantily-clad girl that Emma thought she may have recognized was clinging to his side.

Emma turned to give the drunken man a wary, questioning look. She could feel the tension building back up sharply at his words, and was wondering if it was finally time to give the Rapscallions a piece of her mind when it came to snooping in her relationship with their Vice President.

Killian himself saved her the trouble, though, as he straightened and draped his arm across Emma’s shoulders, pulling her lightly against him. “Aye, water would look pretty bloody strange to you, wouldn’t it, Scarlet?” He retorted, chucking the empty water bottle at his fellow club member’s head. It hit its target, earning an indignant shout from Will, and a high-pitched giggle from his companion.

“Oy, I drink water!” The fact that Will followed the exclamation with a rather lengthy pull from his whiskey bottle countered his words.

Snorting, Killian looked towards Emma with a roll of his eyes. “Doesn’t count if it’s got Jameson in it.” He raised an eyebrow and shot Will a knowing look.

Will lowered the bottle, swallowing loudly, and let out an equally loud belch a moment later. “Aye, Cap,” He grinned and stumbled closer to them, leaving the girl slightly swaying where she was. “S’pose you’re right there.” His unfocused gaze settled on Emma and she straightened at the scrutiny he seemed to be casting on her. “Nah, I was just speculatin’ on all this,” He waved with the hand holding the bottle, his index finger pointing out towards her as he did it.

“Scarlet…” Killian’s voice had grown stony, a clear warning there that none of them could miss. Not even Will in his current state of inebriation.

Taking a step back, holding his free hand up, Will shook his head. “Not like that, Cap.” He stopped and gave them both another appraising look. “Just strange to see how… well, this all works here. ‘Specially after everything that happened, and all the bollocks people been sayin’ since she came home.”

Emma tensed again and Killian lightly ran his hand up and down her shoulder. He gave her a quick ‘it’s okay’ look before they both looked back to Will, who clearly had more he wanted to add.

He pulled in a deep breath. “Emma, love, you make him _far less_ of a arrogant prick.” He admitted as he let the air rush out.

“Hey!” Killian shouted and Emma couldn’t help the grin that slowly started to spread across her face.

Will held up both hands this time, the bottle dangling precariously high in the air. “Can’t take that one back, Cap. Tis as true as me and water.”

As Killian started to grumble, Emma pulled out from under his arm and crossed the short distance to Scarlet. He froze at her approach, looking as wary as she had minutes before. She stopped just before him, reaching up and taking the bottle of whiskey from him.

“I’ll drink to that,” She winked and took a pull from the bottle.

“Swan!” Killian gasped in mock indignation as Will whooped and laughed, barely able to keep himself upright as he did. Emma turned back to Killian with an innocent look on her face as he gaped at her. The shrug she gave him was as innocent as her look.

He couldn’t help but break out into a grin and step over to her. She handed the bottle back off to Will as Killian moved.

“Bloody hell,” He laughed as he captured her face in his hands. She beamed at him and accepted the heated kiss he pressed to her lips. Killian moved one hand from her face to wrap his arm around her waist, letting his hand rest lightly on her ass. She moaned and pressed herself flush against him, fingers finding their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. Killian gave a thrust, his own groan rumbling deep in his throat.

“You two keep that up,” A new voice had entered the fray and they slowly broke apart, a wet smacking sound emanating from their lips as they did, to find Robin smirking at them with his eyebrow raised. “And you’re likely to give Emma’s brother a stroke.” He pointed with his fingers, holding a lit cigarette between them, to something over Emma’s shoulder.

She turned, still with Killian’s arm around her, to see David and Graham resting against the side of the police cruiser parked just inside the property line. Graham’s attention was focused on some other part of the gathering, no doubt a way to distract himself from what had just been happening with Emma and Killian. David, on the other hand, was glowering right in their direction.

“Shit, I keep forgetting they’re there.” Emma admitted.

“Same.” Killian added too quickly for it to be as sincere as he was trying to make it sound.

Emma turned to give him a frown that was one part exasperation, two parts confusion. “Explain to me again _why_ my brother and his deputy are here? Isn’t this a private club thing?”

“Aye, it is,” Killian stepped away from her a fraction, but still kept his hand on her hip. “But we’ve sort of had to come to an accord with the Sheriff’s department to do anything of this sort.” He tilted his head and grimaced a little.

She squinted at him. “Why?”

Robin stepped closer to them, leaning his head in near to Emma’s. “Ah, you see lass…” He had a conspiratorial glint to his blue eyes. “Some years back, not _that_ long after you…” He paused and Emma’s heartbeat quickened at what he was likely about to say. “Took your holiday.” She deflated a little in relief at the polite phrasing. “The Captain here had just patched into the club and decided to make a grand show of it all. Celebration for the _ages_.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Killian mumbled, dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Emma’s eyes went wide. “What did he do?”

“I think the easier question is what _didn’t_ he do.” Robin laughed, sending a glance to Killian who was looking even more embarrassed by each passing second. “I don’t think he could walk straight for the next week, all things considered.”

“Oh.” Emma didn’t like the picture that suddenly formed in her head.

“Alright, stop it.” Killian shoved Robin back and stepped up to Emma so he was looking down at her. She eyed him with a tilt of her head. “Love, I promise he means it more in the I was wasted way, not the…” he waved his hand and then shook his head. “There was a lot of rum and weed and maybe a few things both my brother and father gave me a right scolding for…” He looked at her again, eyes almost frantic. “Point is, _we…”_ He sent a pointed look to Robin, while jerking his thumb in Scarlet’s direction. “Created a lot of havoc and did a bit of property damage. Liam and Pop had to pull a lot of strings to mend it all. Had to agree to a lot of things to keep it to mere _teenage rebellion_ , as it were”

Emma nodded slowly. “Including sheriff chaperones?”

He squeezed one eye shut, his head cocking slightly to the side. “Aye?”

She eyed him critically for a moment before the facade fell away and she let out a laugh. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning up on her toes to peck at his lips.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” Killian laughed in relief as she pulled back from the kiss. “Doesn’t make you think less of me, right, love?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Please.” She turned and let him wrap his arms around her waist, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder. “If I was gonna be put off by your rum drinking and law-breaking, I would’ve run away when we were five.”

Robin snorted. “She really has always had you pegged, Cap.” He reached for the bottle in Will’s hand.

“If you only knew,” Emma sighed casually, causing Robin to spew the sip of whiskey he had taken and both Will and Killian to crack up. She licked her lips and then grinned outright as Killian pressed a joyful kiss to her cheek.

“I bloody love you,” He whispered as rested his forehead against the side of her head.

Emma shrugged impishly, running her hand up and down his forearm across her stomach. Her attention returned to the two men still standing against the cruiser. David looked about ready to explode, as if the sight of her being simply affectionate with Killian was worse than watching them make out. She sighed. “I should probably go over there.”

Killian’s head lifted off of hers. “Emma…” His tone was whiny, yet came out as a sort of sigh as if he’d just been waiting for her to make the suggestion.

“Killian…” She mocked, throwing him a look over her shoulder before looking back towards David. “He’s my brother _and_ the sheriff. We can’t just ignore it.”

“We could try.” Killian grumbled petulantly.

She turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping out of Killian’s arms, Emma started making her way towards her brother. Killian held onto her hand until the last possible moment, and she turned to give him an encouraging smile as her arm fell to her side. He was watching her reluctantly, but gave a nod of acceptance. Turning back around, Emma straightened up and prepared herself for what was inevitably going to be bickering between her and her brother, at the very least.

“Hey guys,” She said conversationally as she approached.

David’s scowl only deepened, but Graham at least at the decency to give her a smile. It was tepid and awkward, but it was something.

“Emma,” He nodded his head towards her in greeting.

Emma stopped a couple feet from the pair, crossing her arms nervously. If she had thought she was tense around the members of the club, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling right now.

“So, they were just telling me about this whole,” She waved her hand at them and the car. “Agreement. Killian got a bit rowdy back in the day?”

The snort David let out was anything but pleasant and she shot a look to him. He quickly looked away from her, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he squared his shoulders.

“Yeah…” Graham drawled out, looking from David back to to her. “Jones has a tendency to really,” He shrugged helplessly, his hand resting lightly atop his pistol out of habit. “Get into it when he’s-”

“Living?” David interjected, glancing to Graham. It was a faux tone of helpfulness, his disdain for the topic they were discussing coming out clear with his words. “Existing? Breathing?” He supplied with growing agitation.

“David…” Emma sighed.

Heated blue eyes turned on her sharply. “He blew up three squad cars on that particular bender.” Her own green eyes went wide at the revelation. “Oh, did he not get into the gritty details with you? How about the damage him and his ‘ _brothers’_ did to the ice cream parlor a couple years back?” Pushing off the car, David stepped closer to her. His arms were still crossed over his chest, but now he was giving off an air of superiority. Like revealing all of her boyfriend’s dirty misdeeds to her gave him a leg up. “Let’s not forget the time he put a guy in the hospital for daring to touch his ride. Or all the other _lovely_ tales about how he’s ended up locked up in the cell at the station. He’s been there so many times, I’ve thought about putting a plaque up in his honor.”

It was Emma’s turn to glower at her brother. “You finished?”

“Oh, I haven’t even scratched the surface.” David was close enough to her to be looking down at her.

Emma rose to the challenge he was putting up, uncrossing her arms and straightening her shoulders. “You have a point, _sheriff_?”

“Your _boyfriend_ ,” David spat the word like it was poison. “Is a criminal. A scumbag who gets off on destruction and mayhem. Just like the rest of this evil fucking organization masked as a motorcycle club.”

Emma frowned thoughtfully. “If Killian and the rest of them are so bad, David,” She tilted her head to the side in mock wonder. “How come you don’t arrest them all? Why are you here, playing babysitter while they have a good time? Why make nice with Papa Jones and Liam?” When David seemed to have nothing in response to that, she plowed on. “Maybe it’s because you _like_ the mayhem they cause. You’ve always liked being the hero, big brother. Boasted yourself on it. And they give you the chance to come in like some Prince _fucking_ Charming for this town. The Rapscallions stir things up and you get to reap the benefits. The club is the evil you need to have some sort of purpose.”

“You need to get away from them, Emma.” David’s voice had shifted to desperation, though it was clear her words had angered him. Still, it seemed he wasn’t going to acknowledge them. He leaned in closer to her, as if speaking to her privately. “You still can. Come back to the farm, you and Henry, and leave this world behind. You’re better than all this. Both of us are.”

Emma felt some of the fight leave her, the part deep inside of her that had missed her brother coming to the surface at his clear concern for her. “And what if I’m not?”

Her admission seemed to have the opposite effect on David that his had on her. His face settled into a stony glare and he stepped back again. “Guess you’ll have to get that abortion doctor on speed dial then?”

The fight was back in a flash. Before Emma could even consider what she was doing, she reached up and punched her brother sharply in the jaw. David stumbled back at the blow and Emma was prepared to pounce on him, but a pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around her and held her back.

“Whoa there, Swan,” Killian murmured in her ear, dragging her back a couple paces. “You don’t want to keep doing that.”

“I really fucking think I do,” Emma argued, struggling against his hold. “Did you hear what he said, Killian?” She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Aye, love,” Killian whispered, tightening his hold on her. “And he’ll pay for that.”

She jerked in his arms again. “Yeah, because I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.” She spat towards her brother, who looked as irate as she did. “You’re an arrogant asshole, David Nolan. You know that? A self-righteous, pretentious fucker…”

“Killian, take her inside.” The eldest Liam had suddenly appeared at their side, looking every bit the leader that he was. Emma continued to struggle against Killian’s hold, making a noise of protest at his brother’s words. “Now!”

“No!” Emma shouted, and then found herself facing Killian as he abruptly turned her.

He looked down at her desperately. “I know you wanna hurt him, Emma. _Believe_ me, I know,” She saw something dangerous flash in his eyes. “But I’m gonna need you to trust me when I say it won’t help,” The dangerous look faded into a sadness that he only could’ve gotten through experience. “Please, let’s just go inside?”

Her instinct was making her want to shove out of his arms while he wasn’t expecting it and lunge for her brother again. But there was something in Killian’s eyes that held her in place. After a moment, she nodded her head and Killian eased his hold on her. He gave her a gentle smile, reaching down to take her hand in his. She took it and started to allow him to lead her back towards the clubhouse. But she stopped after only a couple of steps.

“David,” Her voice was surprisingly calm for everything she was currently feeling churning inside her. Killian turned to give her a cautious frown, but she only caught a brief glimpse of it before she looked over her shoulder. The chatter between David, Graham, Liam, and the other club members who had moved to intervene had ceased at her call. They were all watching her.

“ _This,_ ” She shrugged one shoulder and looked back to Killian for a moment. Then her attention found her brother’s once again. “Is my world now.” She stated simply before turning back towards her boyfriend. “Let’s go inside.”

Killian nodded , the ghost of a smile on his lips as he went back to leading her into the clubhouse.


	6. Chapter 6

Resting with his back against the closed door to his room in the clubhouse, Killian watched Emma as she sat motionless on the end of his bed. He’d felt something proud swell up in him at her declaration to her brother, but it had fallen away quickly the moment they’d gotten inside and she’d seemed to go numb. She’d let him lead her straight to the room and sit her down on the mattress, not uttering a word or making any sort of indication of what she wanted to do.

Not really sure what do to himself, Killian figured that whatever was about to come was likely gonna be rather intense. He’d never seen Emma go off quite like that on her brother before. There had always been spats between the siblings, much like there were between him and his brothers. But unlike him and the two Liams, Emma had never come to blows over anything with David before.

He reached around and pulled the half-used joint, and his lighter, from his back pocket. The least he could do to ease the impact of whatever was looming was dull the senses a little bit. Bringing it to his lips, he flicked the lighter to life. The sound of it caught Emma’s attention and she looked up from where she had been staring blankly at the ground.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she had yet to actually cry. “Is getting fucked up your solution to everything?”

Killian coughed slightly after the hearty drag he took. “Never hurts.” He pushed off the door and stepped closer to her, holding the joint out as he went.

She eyed it with uncertainty for a moment before reaching out and snatching it from him. She quickly brought it to her own lips for a pull, holding the smoke in her lungs a couple of extra seconds before blowing it towards the ceiling. Killian lowered himself onto the carpet before her feet, tucking his legs underneath him. He stared up at her as she continued to stare up at the ceiling. There was a flag with the Rapscallion Rogers insignia on it stapled up there, something he’d done when he was ‘technically’ still prospecting.

“I’ve always wondered who made the insignia for the club,” Emma sighed, taking another hit and tilting her head as she examined the flag. “There’s such a pirate vibe to the whole thing,” She looked back down to him and gave a small smile, handing the joint back off to him. “You really do just come by the whole lifestyle naturally.”

Killian took the joint and raised it to his lips with a dramatic flair. “I’ve always been a pirate.” He winked for her as he pulled smoke into his body, turning his head slightly so he didn’t blow it out into her face. He let his hand holding the weed drop down on top of his knee.

Emma gave him another small smile, but he could see her numb facade start to crack. Her face scrunched up slightly and a single tear finally escaped down her cheek. Killian frowned sadly, handing the joint back up to her. She didn’t hesitate to take it this time.

As she took her hit, more tears spilled over. Killian stood up, taking the joint from her fingers as he went, and made his way over to his nightstand where he kept an ashtray. Taking one final drag himself, he left the rest smoking amongst the carcasses of old cigarettes and a couple of candy wrappers. He then collapsed onto the edge of the bed, turning so he was once more facing Emma. She had turned slightly herself so she could look at him, her tears coming in earnest now.

Reaching out his hand to, Killian made an encouraging face. “Talk to me?” He asked softly.

Emma climbed further onto the bed, bypassing his hand completely so she could collapse sideways onto the mattress, her face pressed into his thigh. “When did everything get so fucked up, Killian?” Her voice was muffled by the denim of his dark jeans.

He brought the hand he’d stretched out to her to rest against her hair, lightly running the tips of his fingers through it. “Pretty sure things have always been fucked up for us, love.” Emma groaned and turned her head slightly to glare up at him through one eye. He shrugged. He figured it conveyed just how helpless he was feeling because Emma sighed and rose up, maneuvering until she was seated beside him, her legs tucked crisscross underneath each other.

“I know,” Emma closed her eyes and shook her head. “I didn’t mean _everything_ in general,” When she looked back at him again, there was such a look of longing and sadness that even the ever-growing haze of pot couldn’t hide. “When did shit go _so_ wrong with David, Killian?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

Despite the effects of the weed already taking hold of him, Killian felt a cold dread start to work his way up his spine. He licked his lips, looking to the ground, his mind swirling. Emma didn’t seem to pick up on his sudden struggle, continuing right on with her thought process.

“We used to be _so_ close, ya know?” It was obvious what she’d smoked was starting to hit her rapidly as well, her shoulders drooping slightly. “Like did everything together. _Confided_ in one another.” She held her hand out to indicate him. “And you too! It wasn’t just him and me, and then you and me. You two were _best_ friends. You were _my_ best friends. You know I found a picture of the three of us up on David’s fridge the first night I came back to town? But he’d covered you up with some cheesy cat magnet,” Fresh tears slid from her eyes. “I know your family is outlaw, and my family is _law_ law…” She paused, blinking. And then shrugged.

Killian couldn’t help but smile softly at her babbling, even as the truth of what she was asking was starting to make his insides feel like they were being torn apart.

“But then everything changed and…” Emma threw her arms in the air helplessly. “And I’ve been stuck in the middle. Always having to choose one side or the other and lose one of you.” She abruptly reached out and took his hand, threading their fingers together. “So I made a choice that was neither of you, and I… I think I just made it all worse?”

Turning, tucking up his left knee, Killian reached up and brushed his thumb over her damp cheek. “It wasn’t you, love.” He sighed, realizing a moment he had long been dreading had finally come. “It was me.”

Emma frowned, giving her head a small shake. “No, it wasn’t.” She argued, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t do _anything_ you weren’t already expected to do.” Killian closed his eyes, dropping his head slightly. “It’s true, Killian. Everybody knew you were always gonna be patched in.” He opened his eyes to look at her again, hating he was on the verge of shattering whatever justification she’d built up in her head. “I mean, you talked a big game about not falling in line with your family, but you were made for this life.”

He smiled sadly. “More so than you think, love.” He rose up from the bed, walking towards the dresser across the room by the door to try and gather his thoughts. He could see her moving, turning as he walked, watching him curiously through the dirty mirror on top of the dresser. “Your father changed everything, Emma.” He told her reflection.

Curiosity turned to outright confusion. “My dad?”

“Aye.” Killian turned, resting back against the dresser heavily. He crossed his arms. “He’s what went wrong with everything in our lives.”

“I don’t understand…” Emma shifted her head slightly to the side.

Killian pulled in a deep breath and glanced upwards. The flag with the club insignia almost seemed to be mocking him now. “Your dad… he…”  What he wanted to say was right there, on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn’t bring himself to put it into words just yet. Not the right words, at least. “The club…”

“Killian, I know the club had my dad killed.”

His blue eyes snapped back down to hers. She was watching him expectantly, almost looking bored at what he was saying.

“Everybody’s always really figured it was the club.” Emma shrugged, scooting up the bed so she was closer to him. She reached out and rested her palm on the short post at the corner. “He hated the Rapscallions, the Rapscallions hated him…” She didn’t even look put out by what she was saying. “I mean, I figured that definitely played a part in why David hates everyone here so much.”

Killian sighed again. “Love, it wasn’t the club.”

“Killian…” Emma sighed herself, this time with exasperation.

“It _wasn’t_.”

She rose up from the bed, making her way towards him. “You don’t have to protect them, Killian.” She grab the ends of his cut, looking up at him through hazy green eyes. “Really.”

Reaching up, Killian wrapped his hands around hers. “ _I’m_ not protecting the _club_ , Emma.” He couldn’t keep the emotion from his voice as he finally put into words the secret he’d been carrying since he was eighteen. He pulled her hands off his cut, pressing them against each other. “The club protected _me_.”

Emma blinked. “What?”

Killian swallowed, and look down to their joined hands. “I killed Robert Nolan.”

“Killian…” This time, when she said it, her voice was barely audible. “What?”

He stepped away from her abruptly, shoving his hand up into his hair. “I didn’t plan to do it. Your dad was a prick who hated everything my family was about, and bloody hell, did he hate me for being the one you wanted to be with.” Killian turned back to her, yet keeping several feet from her still. “But I never wanted to kill him…” He made a face and looked towards the window he had covered with paper years ago. “At least not until-”

“Until what?” Emma asked, her voice sounding as if she was trapped in some sort of trance. Or maybe it was a nightmare. Killian couldn’t be sure.

What he was sure of was why he’d done the terrible thing he’d just confessed to after a decade. “He was working for Gold.” Killian looked back to Emma as he said it. “Everything he said, everything he _did_ was in service to that… that… _demon_.”

Emma didn’t seem convinced. “So you’re saying you _killed_ my father because he was working for your club’s enemy? You try and tell me this had nothing to do with the club and then you tell me it’s got everything to do with it? Killian, that’s fucking-”

“No, I killed him because of you and David!” Killian hissed, moving closer to her before deciding against it and stepping back again. He covered his eyes with his hand, trying to stop the tears from slipping free.

“I… don’t…” Emma sounded even more baffled than she had before.

Killian swallowed thickly, realizing there was no way he was gonna be able to keep his emotions at bay. He lowered his hand and lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I had come to the farm to pick you up one afternoon for a joyride. You were still on lockdown after,” He pulled in a breath, letting it out just as quickly. “After the baby and I figured I could sneak you out and we could just… _fly_ for a little while. But your mom had taken you and your brother somewhere. I can’t even remember…”

Moving back to the bed, Killian lowered himself onto it once more. He leaned down with his elbows resting on his knees, clasping his hands together. “Your dad never heard me coming. I’d parked my bike way up the road like usual. So he couldn’t have known I was listening…” He squinted at the memory. “He was outside talking to somebody, saying some shit about you and your brother. Assuring whoever it was that you two would fall in line with time.”

“I was standing along the side of the house, and peeked around to see who he could possibly be talking about you and David with.” He glanced at Emma. “It was Gold. Your father was…” He shrugged, making a disgusted face. “Selling away the lives of his children into the hands of a man who _ruins_ lives. You know what happens to all the girls who end up under Gold’s control?”

Emma nodded wordlessly but otherwise remained frozen to her spot by the dresser.

“Your father didn’t seem to give a shit that you were likely gonna end up strung out in some whorehouse eventually.” Killian could feel the anger from all those years ago rising to the surface. He glanced back to the floor. “Not just _that,_ but David, who so desperately wanted to be a sheriff just like his dad…” He shook his head. “He didn’t give a fuck. As long as he stayed in good with whatever power gave him a leg up on the Rapscallions, he was willing to pay the price.”

His blue eyes found her once more. “I wasn’t about to let that happen. I waited for Gold to leave and then…” Killian unclasped his hands and held them up. “I ended Robert before he could end the lives of the two people I loved more than anything. You were my girl and David was my best mate, probably more of a brother than either of my own have ever been. I _had_ to protect you both.”

“And the club protected you…” Emma added softly.

Killian nodded as his tears continued to fall. “Aye. After I’d done it, I knew there was no way I’d ever be able to just…” He waved his hand as if it explained everything. “I called Liam, who went and told Pop, who made it an official act of club business. I was secretly patched in that night to make the whole thing legit, like it was some rite of passage to get me into the club.”

“So, the prospecting, the supposed wild bash you threw when Robin said you patched in…”

He shrugged. “All a cover. I’ve been full member Rapscallion since the night your dad died.”

Emma nodded, looking to the floor as she processed everything he’d said. Killian noted she too was crying once again.

“It was ice cream.”

It was Killian’s turn to feel confused. “What?”

Looking back up at him, Emma lifted her eyebrows. “My mom had taken me and David to get ice cream. We’d been arguing about the baby and…” She finally moved away from the dresser, stepping over to the bed and lowering herself down beside him. “I think Ruth knew what was coming. Not with Dad, I mean,” She was quick to add, before continuing. “But with me. I think she knew I was gonna bolt. She probably expected me to run right to you.”

“But then I killed your dad.” Killian added.

“Then Dad _died_ ,” Emma amended. “And that just seemed to be it for David. We all figured it was the club, and almost immediately after dad died, you told us you were prospecting even though you always claimed you never wanted this life…” She reached out and took Killian’s hand. He looked up in surprised from their joined hands up to her face. “It broke him, I think. And me…” She shook her head. “It felt like a rift was there between all of us, and the only thing that made sense was me and the baby, but now…”

Emma looked him square in the eye. “You killed my dad.”

Killian didn’t dare look away. “Aye.”

“Because you wanted to protect us.”

“I did.” He pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth and gave his head a slight shake. “I still do.”

Emma searched his eyes for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.” She said simply before pressing herself against him and kissing him fiercely. Killian made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, collapsing back onto the mattress with Emma on top of him. He kissed her back with just as much fervor for a few moments before pulling back quickly, his hand on her cheek.

“Emma, maybe we should…”

She sat up slightly, her blonde hair cascading down around them. “I done with talking, Killian.” She confessed. “It’s like I told David. _This_ is my world now. I’m _not_ better than all of this. I should give some fuck that you killed my adopted dad a decade ago, I know that. But I just feel… relief.” She laughed slightly. “And maybe it’s because I’m stoned, but right now I don’t care. I’m just glad to finally know what happened, and honestly…”

Killian raised an eyebrow as the desperate look that came across her face.

“Knowing it happened because you wanted to keep me safe...” She shifted so she could get a good grip on the zipper of his jeans. “Is really fucking turning me on right now.” Emma emphasized the point by yanking his fly open.

“Bloody hell,” Was all Killian could manage before he crashed his lips to hers once more.

\----

Emma swirled her fingers through Killian’s chest hair as they lay snuggling after a few intense rounds of love-making some time later. There was a comfortable silence hovering in the air, along with the pungent scent of weed as Killian went back to the joint he had set aside before the big, intense revelation. Emma considered leaning up and asking for a hit, but she was still very strongly feeling the effects of the pot from before they’d had sex.

“I meant it, you know.”

Killian’s fingers stopped where they had been continuously brushing through her damp, tangled hair. Emma pressed herself up on her elbow, giving him a meaningful look.

“I don’t want you think because I was high and horny that what I said wasn’t true.” He continued to simply watch her, that signature eyebrow raised up yet again. “I mean, I still am kind of high, and maybe still a little horny too but.. _That’s_ not the point I’m trying to make here. Stop laughing at me.” She pouted at the amused smirk Killian was giving her.

He moved his hand from behind her head to hold it up in surrender, then turned to deposit his joint back in the ashtray. When he looked back at her, he gave her as serious a nod as he could for a man who’d just been fucked to oblivion and back and was clearly still stoned himself.

“Carry on, love.” He brushed a wisp of hair over her ear lovingly.

She shrugged. “I don’t care that you killed my dad.” The eyebrow was back, this time definitely looking more than skeptical. “I mean, I care, but… not in a ‘I hate you and never wanna see you again after today’ kind of way. Which is probably really fucked up but-”

“Lemme guess…” Killian sat up some, causing Emma to sit up some herself. “You don’t care?”

Emma nodded. “I really don’t?” She made a face of disinterest. “I actually care more that David obviously doesn’t know…”

Killian pulled in a deep breath. Pursing his lips, he gave a minute shake of his head. “Your brother and I haven’t really been on the level for a heart to heart chat for,” He paused to pretend to calculate the time. “Oh, about a decade now.”

“He needs to know, Killian.”

He nodded. “Aye, I know…” He reached for her hand, fiddling with the tips of her fingers distractedly. “It’s just-”

A knock at the door had them both glancing up in its direction.

“Hey, Cap…” Ariel’s voice filtered through the wood. “You decent?”

“Not particularly, Guppy.” Killian grumbled back loudly, using Ariel’s call sign. “Is this important?”

“Uh....” Ariel seemed to be grappling for the right words to say. “It’s about that thing we’ve been looking into… with you know who.”

Killian was quick to climb out of bed, leaving Emma staring at him slightly stunned as he hastily pulled his briefs on and made for the door. Emma tightened the bed sheet around her chest as he pulled it open.

Ariel waved at Emma cheerily. “Hey Swan Girl.”

She gave a nod in return. “Ariel.

“What did you find out?” Killian cut right to the chase, seeming to have sobered up at whatever information Ariel proclaimed to have in her possession.

Ariel looked from Emma to Killian hesitantly. “Oh, I…” She reached into the tightly tied bodice she insisted on wearing, extracting a few folded piece of paper and handing it off to him. “I figured out where he spent the last several years.”

He was already easing the door closed with his shoulder as he started to unfolded the papers in his hands. “Good work, Guppy.”

Emma frowned slightly as Ariel mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to her before the door clicked back into place. She turned her attention on Killian as he made his way back towards the bed, his eyes perusing the papers down in front of him. “What’s that about?”

“The stuff I’ve been doing the last couple weeks,” Killian replied distractedly. He lowered himself down onto the bed. He stopped after a moment to give her an apologetic look over his shoulder. “I know we said full honesty about everything, but I had to be sure, you know?” He returned his attention to the paper.

She scooted closer to him, leaning up to rest her chin on his shoulder so she could look at the papers as well. “Know what?”

“That morning your brother brought me into interrogation, he showed me some pictures that didn’t make a lot of sense to me. They had a man I had…” He frowned and shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t resting on. “ _Interrogated_ myself.” Emma could easily figure out what he meant there. “One of the Rapscallions,” he paused to give her a quick look out of the corner of his eye. “Arthur, the devious prick, and…”

Killian flipped the top page over to reveal an image that almost made Emma’s heart stop.

“Neal Cassidy.” He finished. “You remember him, right? Rich stuck up little shit, heir to the Gold Empire…”

Emma started to ease her way off Killian’s shoulder. “Yeah, I remember him.” She replied softly, slowly lowering herself onto her back on the mattress. Her eyes took in the Rapscallion logo hovering over them.

“He disappeared out of town for the longest bloody time,” Killian was clearly still working his way through the paragraphs of information Ariel had handed to him. “And now he’s back clearly doing his daddy’s dirty work, and it involves the club, and your brother is snooping about, so I was trying to work out exactly where he’s-”

“Boston.” Emma cut in, her voice shaky.

The papers ruffled and then Killian was turning to face her. He’d clearly heard the trepidation in her tone.

She turned her head to the side to look at him, the look in her eyes knowing and hesitant. “What that stuff Ariel brought you is gonna tell you is Neal has been _laying low_ in Boston for the past five years.”

Killian stared at her quietly, his look shifting from confusion to a painful understanding as everything she _wasn’t_ saying yet seemed to settle in.

“Guess we’re not done talking after all.” Emma shrugged.


	7. Chapter 7

Seated on the edge of his bed, the muscles in his jaw ticking with tension and overwhelming emotions, Killian could feel Emma’s gaze on him as he mulled over her latest confession.

 _Neal Cassidy was Henry’s father_.

The very man he’d spent the last several weeks trying to dig up as much dirt as possible on had been in a relationship with Emma Swan for the past five years. More than that, he’d gone and done his duty to his family legacy and continued on the family line.

Shooting up, Killian agitatedly started to redress himself. He could hear Emma shifting on the bed behind him.

“Killian…?” Her voice was soft, unsure.

“I can’t be here.” He muttered back as he buckled his belt into place. He then leaned down and snatched up an old, dirty shirt from the floor and pulled that over his head. “I need to go.” Killian dropped back down onto the mattress, hastily pulling his socks and boots onto his feet.

“Oh.” The hesitation in Emma’s voice turned to sadness. “Okay. I guess I’ll just-”

Killian picked her jeans up from the floor and passed them to her without glancing at her, his attention seeking out the rest of his stuff he knew he couldn’t go without. “Get dressed.”

She nodded quickly, fingers fumbling with the denim. “Yeah.”

While Emma busied herself with pulling her clothes and shoes back on, Killian stood and pocketed his cigarettes and lighter and phone. He then made his way over to the dresser, yanking open one of the middle drawers. He pulled out a hoodie with the Rapscallion insignia on the back and turned.

“Here, put this-” Killian froze as he watched Emma struggle to tie the laces on her boots as tears slipped down her cheeks. His aggravation, at least for the moment, fell away in an instant. “Love?” He moved over to her, kneeling down to try and catch her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” She sniffled, studiously ignoring his eyes as she continued to fiddle with her boot strings. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

Killian dropped the hoodie on the floor and reached up to press his palm against her cheek. “Emma, look at me…” After a moment, she slowly lifted her green eyes to meet his. “What’s wrong?”

She laughed humorlessly. “What’s wrong, Killian?!” Emma pushed up from the bed abruptly, causing Killian to fall back onto his ass on the floor. He gave her a wide-eyed look in mild surprise. “You drop this huge bomb about my father and I’m perfectly okay with it,” She yanked the sleeves of her shirt up and frantically started looking around the room. The tears continued to fall as she did so. “But I tell you who I spent my time with when I left this stupid town and suddenly you’re kicking me out.”

“What?” Killian shot up and started to move towards her. “I’m not kicking you out!”

She threw him an incredulous look that stopped him from getting any closer. “You just said you had to go.”

“Yeah…”

Crossing her arms defensively, Emma glared at him harder. “And then you’re throwing my clothes at me, _demanding_ I get dressed. It really doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know when I’m being thrown out the door.”

Killian groaned and rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell…” He grumbled as he stepped fulling into her space. Standing her ground, she glared up at him, her sadness clearly giving way to her fiery temper. “You need to be _dressed_ to ride a damn motorcycle, Swan.”

The fight drained out of her instantly. “What?” Her arms dropped to her sides.

Killian rolled his eyes again, but it was more a reaction to what he was about to say than Emma. “I _do_ need to get out of here. What you just told me-” He saw Emma start to tense up and gently reached up and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay…” She squinted her eyes at him and he sighed. “Definitely not okay, but I’m not mad…” He quirked his head to the side and frowned slightly. “At least, not at you.”

“You’re not?”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course not.” He brought his right had up to run the back of his fingers under her eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Emma looked unconvinced once again. “Except sleep with the son of your club’s long time enemy.”

Killian felt the muscle in his jaw start to tick once more as tension gathered back up in his body over her words. “Yeah…” He nodded, staring straight at her for several long seconds before turning around and kneeling down to snatch up the hoodie again. “We’re gonna have a proper discussion about all of that…” He twisted back around to her and held the hoodie out to her. “But not here. I don’t…”

He tightened the space between them and leaned in close to her ear. “I don’t want anybody overhearing anything they shouldn’t, okay?” He moved to give her a significant look.

In her gaze, he could see the understanding settling in as she seemed to recall what he had told her before her big confession. “Alright.”  Emma took the hoodie from him and Killian stepped back so she could slip it over her head. “But babe…?”

Killian tilted his head curiously as she got the outerwear settled into place.

“Your bike’s at the house?”

Smirking, Killian lifted his eyebrow knowingly. “Never said it was my bike we were taking.”

\----

Emma pressed her cheek tighter against Killian’s leather-clad shoulder, her arms squeezing a little more around his middle, as the seashore continued to whip past on their right. In all the time since she’d returned home, this was the first time she’d been with him on a motorcycle ride. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the feeling of freedom flying down the road with Killian as her graceful navigator.

She could almost consider it peaceful, if not for the tension that felt like it was growing at an alarming rate. There were dark clouds gathering a ways out over the water, and on the air whipping sharply past them, she could smell the building storm. It went along with the stiff set of Killian’s shoulders as they continued down the empty stretch of road, going somewhere he hadn’t revealed. She hadn’t even had time to message Elsa about Henry before they were shooting out of the clubhouse parking lot.

Thinking of Henry made her own anxiety and guilt come bubbling up to the surface, shattering the brief feeling of freedom she’d previously just been experiencing. Killian had told her he wasn’t angry at her, and she believed it. But it still remained to be seen how he would react when her son wasn’t off being cared for by his sister-in-law. She didn’t want to doubt Killian’s devotion to her kid, but she couldn’t help but worry over what this could do to not only her and Killian’s relationship, but more importantly the bond he’d been building with her boy.

The bike beneath her taking a lazy curve around a bend in the road drew her from her unsettling thoughts and she tried to catch a glimpse of where they were now. A boathouse sat a small distance away and she realized Killian has brought her to the place the club tried to discreetly handle their more difficult business dealings. She eased herself back as Killian slowly brought the motorcycle to a stop, keep it upright with his two feet planted firmly to the ground.

“So this is where you-”

“Yeah,” Killian answered before she could finish, sliding the kickstand into place as he killed the engine. He raised up off the seat, giving her room to climb off the bike first. Emma started to unbuckle the borrowed helmet as she went.

“And you think this is a safe place to…” She placed the helmet down on the back of the bike, giving him a hesitant look.

Killian shook his head, letting his own helmet come to rest on the seat beside hers. “No, it’s definitely not.” He looked up at her through the dark hair that had fallen over his eyes now that it wasn’t restrained. “But I know somewhere that is.” He stepped back from the motorcycle and held his hand out to her.

Curious, Emma took his hand and allowed him to lead her towards the large clump of trees just off to the side of the boathouse. She waited while Killian brushed aside branches until a slightly overgrown path emerged. Then they were plunging into the brush.

“Where does this go?” She asked quietly, feeling like anything louder would somehow be disruptive.

Killian looked over his shoulder at her. “You know what that place is back there. And I’m sure you can figure some of the stuff that goes on there?” Emma nodded and Killian gave a small nod of his own before looking forward again, continuing to guide her through the trees.

“I’ve done a lot of less than exemplary things in the name of my club in that boathouse.” His voice was low like hers had been. “For the most part, I don’t think twice about it. I knew what I was getting into the moment I patched in. But there are times when…”

“It just gets too much?” Emma guessed.

He stopped just before the forestry around them came to an end and turned to give her a small smile. “Yeah, exactly.” Letting go of her hand, his stepped back out into the open. He gave her an almost-shy shrug. “So I found myself a place to help me think about things.”

Emma followed him into the clearing and pulled in a sharp breath as she turned to her right and the ocean spread out endlessly beyond the few feet of cliff before them. Her eyes drifted to the slightly dilapidated-looking wooden stairs that disappeared down into some unseen space below. Killian lead her towards them and then gestured for her to take the lead.

She looked from him to the stairs, seeing up close how tended they _hadn’t_ been in a very long time. Still, her trust in Killian was one of the strongest things she had ever known, so Emma started to make her way down the steps. Killian took hold of her hand from behind as she went.

Despite their appearance, the stairs didn’t falter the whole descent and when they reached the bottom, Emma saw that all that was there was a small strip of beach leading right towards the water. It was the height of seclusion, and despite the storm that was still gathering menacingly, an odd sense of calm settled over her.

“You come here a lot?” She asked softly, moving out onto the sand.

Killian stepped up beside her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Not as much as I used to.” His eyes took in the water, watching the waves as they crashed upon the shore. “I’m not so much at odds with myself anymore.” He shrugged. “But back when I first patched in…”

Emma noted the tension in his voice and looked at him fully. He mirrored her actions and she could see the the old hurt shining in his eyes. Along with a bit of that anger she knew all too well. “You mean back when I first left.”

He broke their stare, nodding wordlessly as he gaze dropped to his boots. He then brushed past her, making his way over to a large piece of driftwood settled back against the cliff wall. Killian lowered himself down onto it and then looked up at Emma, patting a spot on the makeshift bench next to her.

“Come talk with me, Swan?” He asked quietly, his blue eyes imploring.

Emma closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. After a moment of mentally preparing herself, she nodded and opened her eyes, heading in Killian’s direction.

\-----

She told him about as much of Boston as she could. She told him how she’d spent those first few years doing all she could to distance herself from the life she’d left back in Storybrooke. She’d found herself working as a bail bonds woman, figuring the best way to leave behind the world of outlaws was to try and catch a few herself.

But of course Storybrooke never really _could_ be left behind, Emma had found out when she’d quite literally stumbled into Neal Cassidy at some random coffee shop. Despite running, all that time away from home with only passing check-ins with her brother from time to time had left her feeling a bit nostalgic and lonely and they’d struck up a friendship based on their shared past. Neal had told her he was also trying to put said past behind him for good, wanting to make an honest name for himself away from his father.

Alone, and still a bit on the young and naive side, Emma had bought it.

That had been her first mistake.

The next had been getting into a relationship with Neal. At first, it was lovely. What felt like a perfect combination of her old world, and her new. He wined and dined her and treated her so extravagantly. Too extravagantly, she slowly started to realize.

Turned out Neal’s new honest way of living wasn’t honest at all and he’d swindled a lot of people out of a lot of money in the relatively short time he’d been in Boston. All the work Emma had done to leave _behind_ the life of outlaws, and she’d ended up in bed with one again anyways. Quite literally.

Of course by the time she’d found all this out about her ‘honest’ boyfriend, she was a few weeks into her second pregnancy. Finding out about the baby growing inside her had sent her spiraling in ways she never had before. Everything she’d done back in Storybrooke, all the choices she’d made, ones that had felt then like they’d upended every aspect of her life… and she’d still ended up knocked up by a man working outside the law, with _far_ more enemies than the one who had been before.

Keeping the baby felt dangerous and risky, especially after she’d told Neal. On the outside, he’d seemed genuinely happy about the news. But the time spent with him had made her less naive, and she’d detected there was more to it then just the happiness of being a father. Still, Emma couldn’t bring herself to make the same choice she’d made at sixteen. For better or for worse, this was the result of the decisions she’d made. She felt like it was her penance for everything that she’d felt like she’d caused or allowed to happen, back in Storybrooke and in Boston.

Henry wasn’t a penance, of course. He was a blessing in a life that turned out to be far more unpredictable than Storybrooke. Even as the extravagances started to dry up, and Neal became more erratic and cagey, Emma did all she could to give her son a happy and carefree life.

And then Neal had bolted as rumor spread that those he’d cheated were ready to collect. All the talk he’d given her in those early days of friendship, of wanting to break free of his daddy’s empire and power, and as soon as things got bigger than he could handle, he hightailed it back to the protection of papa Gold back home.

Emma had been left behind, an infant to care for, and a number of people looking to make someone pay for Neal’s misdeeds. That was when David, who she’d kept in closer contact with after finding out about Henry, had started to suggest maybe it was time she came home too…

Trailing off, Emma looked from the churning waves she’d taken a moment to stare at to Killian. He had been patiently quiet through her whole recounting, the only signs of reaction coming in the expression of his eyes or the set of his mouth. Now he was staring at her almost curiously.

“I…” He started, but then winced and shifted his own gaze towards the sea.

Emma tilted her head. “What is it?”

Pulling in a deep breath, Killian rested his arms on his legs and clasped his hands together tightly. His attention shifted down to the sand. “I hate to ask this, but…” He squinted his eyes slightly. “Did you come back to Storybrooke because you knew that no matter what had happened between us…” His blues eyes found hers. “I’d do _anything_ to protect you?”

She shifted on the driftwood, contemplating his question. “Not intentionally,” She replied honestly after a moment. “I knew coming back here meant we’d be around each other again, but I didn’t ever think or imagine…” Emma reached out and pulled his right hand away from the other. She laced their fingers together. “Maybe deep down, though? Some things you never forget, no matter how much you aren’t aware you’re remembering it.”

Killian shifted in her direction a fraction. “The club protects its own.” He stated simply.

“I wasn’t a part of the club.” Emma whispered.

Killian let out a scoff, tears brimming in his eyes as he pulled her towards him. She settled into his lap, letting her forehead come to rest lightly against his. “Swan, you’ve been a bloody part of this club as long as I have.”

“Pretty sure your club president brother won’t agree,” She mumbled back, pulling back to give him a self-deprecating sort of look. “Especially when he finds out who Henry’s father and family is…” She felt a couple tears slip free and turned her eyes away so she didn’t have to see what look Killian got at the reminder.

Killian’s brought his hand up to her jaw to gently coax her back to looking at him. “I’m only gonna say this once, okay?” His voice was firm, broaching no argument. Emma nodded mutely in understanding. “Whatever comes to pass with my brother, or yours, the club, Gold, Neal…” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “The whole bloody town of Storybrooke…”

When his eyes reopened, Emma was nearly overwhelmed at the love and devotion she saw there. “None of it will ever change how I feel about Henry. I don’t give a _damn_ who his family is,” Killian brushed his thumb along her jaw. “I would do _anything_ for that boy,” His attention briefly flickered to her lips, and then back up again. “And for you.”

She didn’t hesitate to press her lips to his in a fierce kiss following his declaration. Emma wrapped both her arms around his neck, rising up slightly so she could fully straddle his legs. Killian secured her with one arm around her back, the other hand sliding over her cheek and up into her hair. It was a deeply passionate kiss, but one that was short-lived as Killian pulled back after a moment.

“You are right though,” He sighed, burying his face against her neck. “We do need to tell Liam.”

“And you need to talk to David.” Emma tugged lightly at the hair on the top of his head, tilting his head back so she could give him a serious look.

Killian rolled his eyes but nodded with her hand still in his hair. “Aye, I do.” It was his turn to give her a serious look. “But you do as well, love. I’m not the sister who punched him last night.”

“I’m not the one who murdered his father.” She said with a simple shrug.

He gave her a half-hearted glare and then sighed again. “Point taken.” He gave a nudge to her hip and she raised herself off him, retaking her place on the driftwood as he pushed to his feet. Emma watched as he made his way the short distance to the water, the tips of the near-violent waves washing over the edge of his boots.

Killian threaded his fingers of boths hands up into his hair and let out an almost-feral yell towards the sea and the storm that looked seconds away from dumping all over them. He then turned back to look at her, slightly manic and a fraction helpless.

“Disgruntled grievance to the gods?” She inquired, trying to put some playfulness into the question.

“More like a lament to what used to be.” Killian sighed, striding back towards her. He slowly lowered his arms back down to his sides. “Remember when I was just a common criminal who killed other criminals and you were just the twice knocked-up Sheriff’s daughter?”

Emma shrugged. “Simpler times.”

At that moment, the sky finally opened up and rain began to pour around them, the wind kicking up to an aggressive degree. Killian rushed over to Emma, helping her pull the hood on the Rapscallion sweater over her head. He made some poor attempt to tuck her hair away under the already soaked fabric. Emma stared up at him and quirked a wry little smile.

“Think the gods just gave you their answer.” She had to raise her voice over the water pounding down on the sand and the near deafening crashing of waves. As if to emphasize their point, lightening cracked menacingly overhead, followed quickly by the loud crash of thunder.

Killian squared his shoulders, the water running his hair down over his forehead and into his eyes. He took her hand, raising it up to rest a light kiss along her knuckles. “Into the deluge it is.” He then grasped her hand tightly and began to lead her back towards the stairway.


	8. Chapter 8

Hands wrapped around a warm mug of spiked tea, Killian sat quietly at the huge marble-topped island in his brother’s kitchen waiting for Emma to rejoin him. They had returned to the house after having slowly worked their way back through the storm on the bike, soaked and chilled to the bone. Elsa had ushered Emma off to the guest bedroom, giving Killian a meaningful ‘you and I are gonna talk’ look as she went. 

Taking a sip from the mug, Killian snorted softly to himself. Of course they would need to talk. It seemed he was destined to have meaningful chats with all the most important people in his life. Maybe he would ring up his Pop while he waited and hash out their feelings on the affair and remarriage that had brought little Liam in their lives and sent Killian’s Ma into an early grave.

Killian lowered the mug down to the counter with a heavy thud, grabbing up the bottle of rum close by and unscrewing it quickly. He was in the middle of throwing back a shot straight from the bottle when his sister-in-law came padding into the kitchen. 

“We do own glasses, you know.” She stated in a way that let him know she was scolding him, making her way towards the side of the island opposite where he sat. “In fact, looks like you’ve got a perfectly good one right there.” She gestured to the mug still steaming before him. 

Killian twisted the cap back on the bottle and set it aside. “Not enough rum in it.”

Elsa gave him a knowing look. “There’s never enough rum in it for you.”

Rolling his eyes, Killian slid the bottle down the counter a little. He then turned his focus straight on her as he wrapped his hands back around his mug. “Emma checking on Henry?”

She nodded, looking over her shoulder towards the hallway where the guest room was. “He was cranky when you two didn’t come back when we all agreed you would.” When her icy blue eyes found his again, the disapproval was stronger than ever. “Speaking of, where did you go  _ and _ what did you do to my husband?”

With another eyeroll, Killian pushed off his stool, taking his mug with him as he moved into the lounge just on the other side of the breakfast bar. “Emma and I just took a ride, El…” He placed his mug down on the low table between the handful of couches sat around it and then gracelessly flopped down into the couch closest to him. He gave Elsa an affronted look as she followed him into the room with her arms crossed. “And I didn’t do a damn thing to Liam.”

“Him calling me up ranting about insolent little shit brothers who constantly disappear suggests otherwise.”

Killian leaned over and snatched his mug back up. “I’m not his only little brother…” He reminded with an innocent expression before taking a sip. 

Elsa’s expression implied she was so unimpressed with his sass, she almost looked bored. “We both know Lee would never so much as step a toe out of line when it comes to my husband.”

“Despite my best efforts.” Killian muttered disappointedly before taking another sip. 

Stepping over to him, she snatched the mug out of his hands and placed it on the table out of his easy reach. “Enough rum...”

Killian pouted, flopping back against the cushions. “But you  _ just  _ said there there’s  _ never _ enough rum…” She shot him another unimpressed look as she slowly eased herself down onto the table, her right hand resting on her pregnant belly. “And it’s more tea than rum anyways.”

Using her free hand to reach out and grab one of his, Elsa gave it a firm squeeze that caused him to wince slightly. “Killian, tell me what’s going on.”

He sat up, trying to pull his hand free. “Elsa, I really can’t-”

The sound of the front door slamming open on the other side of the house caused them both to look up quickly. 

“Where the bloody hell is he?!” Liam roared and Elsa abruptly released Killian’s hand and rose as quickly as her rounded belly would allow, making her way into the other room her husband was yelling from. Killian briefly rubbed at his hand and then stretched his arm out and picked up his mug again. 

He swallowed the rest in one go, not caring too much about the heat of the tea, as Liam shouted again over Elsa’s murmurings. 

“So he is here?!” Liam’s voice grew louder as he made his way into the kitchen. “Aye, bloody rum’s out I see…”

“Liam, the children are sleeping.” Elsa’s tone was placating. 

Killian could hear his brother stomping around the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, there’s only one childish little prick…”

“Oh come now, brother.” Killian called out, causing the loud footsteps to stop. He continued twirling the empty mug now resting on his knee back and forth. “Your vocabulary’s better than that.”

The stomping in the kitchen picked up again and then suddenly Liam was glaring at him as he came around into the lounge. 

“Do you know the hell I’ve been through in the past twelve hours?” His older brother shouted at him as he made his way over to where Killian was sitting. He towered over him, arms crossed, in only the way an aggravated big brother knew how. 

Killian regarded Liam with a quirked eyebrow. “I can see the whiskey you’ve been through in the past twelve hours.” It was obvious to Killian that his brother had been at the bottle. Which, in and of itself, was a clear sign that Liam wasn’t exaggerating about being put through hell. It was no secret Killian liked to drink quite a lot when the occasion called for it - and it quite often did, in Killian’s opinion. But equally as widespread was the knowledge that the elder Liam was the famously more straight-laced of Brennan Jones’ children. He would maybe nurse a drink or two from time to time, but that was usually as far as it would go. Except on the rare occasion when Liam found himself exceptionally stressed and pushed to his limit. Then, the famously straight-laced brother found himself more inline with the infamous side of their father’s temper. There was no telling what could set Liam off when whiskey was involved.

Killian almost winced out loud as he considered just how much more his brother would be pushed once he’d heard everything Killian and Emma needed to tell him. He just hoped the more understanding side of his brother’s booze-soaked temperament won out. Brawling with Liam wasn’t particularly high on his to do list. 

A tense uncertainty seemed to hang in the air between the two brothers for a moment, but then it seemed Killian’s silent wish was answered as Liam rolled his eyes and stumbled over to the couch across from Killian’s. He collapsed down into it, eyeing Killian with exasperation.

“Can you bloody blame me?” He muttered in response finally. “Your girl goes and decks the Sheriff clean across the face while at a club get together, and while I’m still trying to keep him from arresting you  _ both _ ,” Liam held his hand out towards Killian and shook his head in mock disbelief. “The pair of you bloody run off to god knows where without a word.” 

Killian frowned. “Arrest  _ me? _ What bloody for?”

Slouching down against the cushions, Liam’s eyes fluttered shut tiredly. “Does it really matter when that arrogant prick is involved? You breathe and he’s ready to slap the damn cuffs on you.” He chuckled and Killian knew he was only seeing some twisted humor in the situation because he was drunk. “Good thing he was gone before you ran off, otherwise O’hara might’ve given him an actual reason to lock you up.”

“Oh, his bloody bike is fine.” Killian scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

Liam peaked an eye open at him curiously. “Why the hell did you feel the need to take it in the first place?”

Not wanting to get into the details of the why just yet, especially with Emma still not having returned to the room, Killian waved it off. “Just needed to clear my head…” He leaned forward and placed his empty mug on the table. “So things settled with Nolan?”

It was Liam’s turn to scoff and he looked away to his right. “Not unless you’re done shacking up with his little sister…” As if on cue, Emma came padding her way down the hall dressed in some of Elsa’s pajamas. She slowed as she entered the room, looking from Killian to Liam with uncertainty. Liam groaned and shifted so he could rest his arms atop the arm of the sofa and drop his face down onto them. 

“Nice to see you too, Liam.” Emma replied in indignation as she moved over towards Killian.

He held his arm out towards her, beckoning her to come take a place down on his lap. “Don’t mind him, love.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss into her warm shoulder. “He’s just drunk.”

“And who’s bloody fault is that?” Liam grumbled loudly into his arms.

“Yours, darling.” Elsa interjected before Emma or Killian could. She came into the room holding a plate laden with a sandwich and some chips. As her husband lifted his head to give her a bleary-eyed glare, she just shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t get to act like Killian was holding you at gunpoint, pouring that whiskey down your throat.”

“At least not this time.” Killian quipped. 

Once she was sure her husband had a firm grip on the plate, Elsa turned her aggravation back on Killian. “And you, stop with the flippant attitude.” She pointed a finger at him and Killian partially buried his face against Emma’s side. “You don’t get to act like there’s nothing wrong. Not when you two show up here after disappearing without a word, looking like drowned rats, followed by my husband stumbling in drunk and blaming it on you. I think we all know there’s some serious shit happening right now, and we’re  _ not _ leaving this room until we’ve at least got some sort of handle on all of it.” She looked from Killian, to Emma, to Liam, and back, in turn. “Do you all understand me?”

They all nodded silently and Elsa gave a single nod of her own. “Good.” She leaned down slowly and picked up Killian’s empty mug. “Now I’m going to make some more tea,” She glanced between the three of them again and sighed. “I feel like we’re gonna be here a while.”

\-----

“I can’t believe those are still there,” Emma whispered into the darkness of Killian’s room at Liam’s house, eyes staring up at the glow in the dark stars scattered across the ceiling. She could still remember the day her and Killian and David had painstakingly tried to tacky them up there, the three then ten-year-olds taking turns sitting on each other’s shoulders. They’d even gone so far as to snag one of the nice chairs from Alice Jones’ fancy dining room so they could wobble around on top of Killian’s twin bed to reach the more difficult spots. 

Killian shifted next to her on the now queen-sized bed, his arm brushing up against hers as he turned onto his back to see what she was looking at. 

“Aye…” He sighed in the same wistful tone she had. “I couldn’t bring myself to take them down, even after all else that changed.”

Closing her eyes, Emma shook her head. “So much  _ has _ changed.” She whispered, feeling suddenly overwhelmed after talking with Elsa and Liam. “Why can’t it be as easy as it was back then?” Back when all they had to worry about was a scolding from Killian’s mom about chipping her nice furniture. Back when family loyalties were nothing more than what the adults whispered about behind closed doors.

Killian shifted again, turning back towards her and drawing her into his arms. “Easy now, love…” He whispered into her hair she turned and buried her face against his chest, the fabric of his shirt catching the tears she couldn’t help but let slip free. “We’ve gotten through the hard part.”

Emma huffed out a disbelieving, humorless laugh. “Have we though?” She asked, pulling back to stare up at him as best as she could in the darkness. “What about all the threads still blowing in the wind, Killian? David, Neal, Gold, Arthur…” She dropped her head back down to his chest. “Just talking it out with your brother doesn’t fix things.” She snorted, as equally as humorless as her laugh had been. “If it fixed anything at all.”

“Swan…” Killian sighed, running his fingers through her still-damp hair. 

“He just got up and walked out without a word when we were all said and done, Killian.” She mumbled against him. “If he didn’t hate me before…”

“Liam  _ doesn’t _ hate you, Emma.”

“Well, he sure as hell doesn’t like me.”

Lightly resting his hand on the side of her head, Killian tilted her head back. “He’d had a  _ lot _ to drink, love. More than he’s had in a long time. And we just unloaded a lot of very concerning, complicating information on him. He may be the cool and collected brother most of the time, but he’s still a Jones down to his core.” His thumb brushed against her cheek softly. “He needs time to process and sober up.”

Emma squinted in his direction. “You act like he didn’t already have less than stellar feelings towards me  _ before _ all this started.”

“Don’t you get it, Emma?” Killian sighed and shook his head a little. “He’s  _ scared _ of you.”

“Scared?” She repeated back incredulously. 

“Aye, love,” Killian gave a small nod. “The power you have over me, over affecting how things work around here…” He moved his hand from her face and down to twine his fingers around hers. “It bloody terrifies him because he knows he can’t stop it. He’s so used to being the one in control and you throw everything out of control.”

Emma found she didn’t have the right words to say to such a revelation. Her instinct was to refute what Killian was telling her, argue that she absolutely didn’t have the power he was proclaiming she did. But even as Killian pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and they quietly settled into finally get some sleep, Emma realize that maybe Killian wasn’t all that wrong. 

Wasn’t what he was saying the very same way Emma felt about him? There was no denying now, whether it be in her heart or her head, that she was always going to find her way back to Storybrooke - to Killian Jones. He’d always drawn her in, always had her coming back for more, even when everyone around them wished they’d move on. It certainly would have made it easier on everyone if they could. But the truth was, Killian was Emma’s and Emma was his. And that alone gave them way more influence than maybe even they had realized.

Emma woke some time later, the tendrils of a grey morning filtering in through a part in the curtains, the same revelation still bouncing around in her thoughts. Quietly, she eased herself out of Killian’s embrace and off the bed. She stared down at him for a moment, still fast sleep, and then leaned in to place a light kiss against his scruff-covered cheek. Then she slowly made her way out of the room and down the hallway towards the kitchen. 

She continued to think about power, and how much of it she and Killian held in their hands, as she busied herself with making tea. It certainly wasn’t escaping her that Liam wasn’t the only brother who was ‘bloody terrified’, as Killian had put it. After his words, it really started to sink in that he had described exactly how David saw him with Emma. Killian scared her brother. Not because he was outlaw, or because he had the influence in their town to get away with any number of things, but because of the power he held over Emma. Her reaction to hearing Killian had been the one to murder her and David’s father was proof enough of that. 

Emma sighed, setting the full kettle of water down on the stove. She genuinely couldn’t begin to fathom how David was going to react whenever he found out. Part of her hoped that his more understanding nature would win out, but it seemed that part of her brother was too deeply buried beneath all the years of hurt and betrayal he was clearly harboring for not just Killian, but Emma as well. No matter how she played the possible scenarios out in her head, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was gonna end up hurt when the truth came to light.

“Bloody hell,” A gravelly voice muttered from the kitchen entryway behind Emma. She looked over her shoulder to see a disheveled and miserable looking Liam propped up against the wall. “Not more tea.” He shuffled his way towards the island, throwing himself down onto one of the stools. “Do you know how many times I stumbled my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night?”

Smirking, Emma turned back to the stove and turned the burner temperature all the way up to the highest setting. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t just because of the tea.” All she got in response was a grunt. After that, silence fell over the kitchen again and Emma felt the overwhelming need to fill it, her feelings from earlier in regards to Liam resurfacing despite what Killian had said and what she now was starting to realize herself. “Killian prefers tea.”

“Aye, well…” Liam’s voice was more muffled and she turned to see he had his face buried in the crook of his crossed arms on the island. “My little brother is a freak of nature and most of the normal world prefers  _ coffee _ in the morning.” He grumbled as he turned a mild glare on her. 

Emma just shrugged helplessly in response, her expression a look of complete innocence. 

Rolling his eyes, Liam pushed up from the stool. “I’m too hungover for this…” He complained as he loudly made his way over to the fancy coffee maker next to the fridge. It was only a few presses of a couple buttons later that his coffee was being made. Liam turned and collapsed back against the counter. His bleary gaze stared at the floor. 

“Fuck, you two are so much alike.” He mumbled, sounding more like he was saying it to himself than to Emma. Still, she couldn’t help but throw a look his way as he continued. “Absolutely bloody destined for each other since the moment you met in kindergarten. Shouldn’t be a damn surprise you’re standing here in my kitchen making bloody  _ tea _ …”

Emma swallowed and turned towards him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Liam’s eyes shot up at her quiet question, his brow furrowed for a moment. Then he was letting out an exhausted sigh, giving his head a shake as he looked up to the ceiling, “No…” He admitted, sounding somewhere between reluctant and embarrassed. “Of course not, Emma.” 

She stood silently as he made his way over to her. 

“One, I can only imagine the ire that would ignite in my brother,” He muttered, giving her a significant look. “Something I am  _ definitely  _ far too hungover to deal with right now…” Emma couldn’t help from smirking slightly. Liam stopped right in front of her and sighed again. “And two… as much as I am terrible at admitting it…”

He reached up and placed his hands on her shoulders. Emma’s eyes widened slightly at the unguarded look he was giving her. 

“This is where you belong.” Liam nodded with unwavering certainty. “You and your boy.”

Tears started to well up in Emma’s eyes at the admission she truly hadn’t ever thought she’d get out of the oldest Jones son. 

“Just…” Liam looked surprisingly more vulnerable as he added. “Please don’t hurt him anymore?”

It struck Emma that this was the moment Liam was choosing to forgive her for everything she had done to his brother in the past. The moment he was accepting what Killian had been telling her the night before - that she had the power when it came to Liam’s younger brother. 

She straightened her shoulders, the certainty in her green eyes matching his from a moment before. “I don’t intend to.”

Liam smiled and nodded again. Emma felt some of the tension that had been permanently coiled around her spine start to loosen, and she went to offer Liam a smile of her own. But it faltered when Liam’s own fell away sharply as he stared at something over her shoulder. The furrow was back between his brow and Emma turned to see what had caught his attention.

“What-”

“Get down!” Liam shouted, throwing her to the ground and using his body to shield hers as a stream of gunfire came bursting into the kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter is upon us! Thank you so so much once again to everyone who has been supportive of this story! I apologize again for not keeping up on replying to comments! Anywho, this chapter is a bit of a ride, so you better buckle yourself in!

“I swear to all the gods known to man, David,” Killian yelled as he slammed his fist against the interrogation room door harshly. “If you don’t open this _fucking door_ right now, I’ll be giving that black eye of yours a mate!”

“Killian…” Liam admonished tiredly from where he was slouched in one of the chairs by the table. He adjusted his grip on his arm, wincing at the pain that shot up and down the appendage as the movement jostled his fresh bullet wound. “I hardly doubt any of that is helping.”

Killian turned on his brother, his eyes wild with rage. “I don’t bloody care. Somebody tries to murder us in our own home and instead of actually doing _competent police work_ ,” He yelled it over his shoulder at the still closed door, then returned his glare back on Liam. “They throw us in here like we’re the ones who committed some bloody crime.”

Pushing up from his seat, Liam winced as he walked over towards Killian. “You heard Graham,” He sighed, giving his brother a patient stare. “We’re in here out of safety.”

“Right,” Killian scoffed, looking away from Liam towards the wall where the bullpen was on the other side. He could imagine Graham was talking frantically with someone on the phone. And in his mind’s eye, he recalled that David’s door was firmly shut, which just made his anger and anxiety spike even higher. “Like these imbeciles can keep us safe…”

Liam brough his hand from his injured arm up to rest atop Killian’s shoulder. “Hey,” He waited until Killian’s gaze slowly returned to his. “We all know that’s not what this is…” He moved his hand up to rest against Killian’s neck. “You have murder in your eyes, brother.”

The words only incensed Killian even more. “Of course I fucking do. Those bastards-” His head filled with all the possible ways the morning could have gone when he had woken abruptly to a barrage of bullets flying through the windows. “What they were doing…”

“Hey,” This time, Liam’s voice was sharper and it went along with the way he yanked on Killian’s head. “Don’t forget it wasn’t just Emma and Henry in that house with us. Don’t forget who’s _actual_ home that was… whose _family_ was in there.”

Killian swallowed harshly, feeling shame over his anger clouding his perception of what happened. He stared into Liam’s eyes and could see, behind the carefully constructed veneer of calm and the expected exhaustion and pain, the same fire that had Killian ready to beat down the door he was pressed again.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, emotions making his voice weak and tears slip unchallenged down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

With another sigh, Liam was pulling Killian’s head down to rest against his shoulder. “I know, Killian.” He felt his own emotions coming to the surface and he pressed his cheek against Killian’s dark and messy hair. “I wish we could go hunt those demons down right now for what they attempted this morning.” He pulled back and looked intently at his younger brother. “My wife and kids may physically be okay, but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to suffer from this. That _we all_ aren’t _already_ suffering.”

Killian pulled in a calming breath. “What do you need from me?”

“I need my Vice President who’s good at tactics and hitting people where they’ll suffer far worse.”

“You mean to strike back when they let us out of here, then.”

Liam squeezed the back of Killian’s neck. “I mean to massacre the whole bloody lot of them.”

\-----

Emma paced the length of her brother’s office, bouncing Henry anxiously as she went. He had stopped crying some time ago, but she could feel the tension through his entire small frame as he rested his head against her shoulder, quietly sucking on his thumb. Not that she could blame him. The whole morning had been one chaotic mess and Emma was sure if she wasn’t running on pure adrenaline and anger, she’d be curled up in some corner sobbing.

“Where Tilly?” Henry whispered around his thumb as she made another rotation of the small space.

Stopping pacing, Emma gently lowered Henry down so he was sitting on the edge of David’s desk. She kneeled down slightly so she was at eye-level with him. “Killian is okay.” She reassured him, hating the confused and terrified look in his brown eyes. “He’s just in the room across the way.”

Henry pulled his thumb from his mouth. “Why no here?”

Emma straightened backup, letting out an aggravated gush of air and looking towards the ceiling as she went. How did she explain to her toddler that the only reason they were separated from Killian was because David was still smarting from their last encounter. Despite the fact that Emma and Henry’s lives had been in very real danger just a couple hours before, her brother’s pride was still a very strongly ruling emotion. If he hadn’t had an active crime scene and several attempted murders on his plate, Emma was sure he would’ve lectured her up and down main street by now. She was pretty convinced he still might as soon as things died down a little.

“Mama…”

Looking back down to her son, seeing the tears start to well up in his eyes again, Emma realized trying to be ‘good’ for the sake of making things easy on David wasn’t going to cut it. “Fuck it.” She muttered, scooping her kid back up and making her way to the door. She yanked open, moving into the bullpen with purpose.

Graham looked up from where he was immersed in a phone call. He held his hand over the microphone, pulling the device away from his face slightly. “Emma, your brother said-”

“I don’t give a shit what David told you.” She marched over to him and stared up at him defiantly. “You’re letting me in that interrogation room before my kid has another completely appropriate meltdown.”

Looking from Emma to a sniffling Henry, Graham let out a reluctant sigh and nodded to the keys on his desk. He turned away from her and returned to his phone, apologizing to whoever was on the other end of the line. Emma snatched up the keys with her free hand and crossed the remainder of the room to where she knew Killian and Liam were being held.

“Can’t believe they locked the door,” She mumbled to herself as she stuck the key she knew unlocked it into the hole. Turning it, she opened the door and found the two brothers locked in a quiet discussion over the interrogation table. They both looked up at the sound of the door opening.

Killian’s eyes widened as he took her in and he flew up from his chair so fast, he sent the thing slamming to the ground. “Swan!” He cried out and started to move to wrap both her and her son in a tight embrace, but Henry had other ideas as he shouted ‘Tilly!’ in a sobbing voice, thrusting his arms out toward Killian.

There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation as Killian corrected his course, reaching solely for the young boy. “Hey, lad,” He laughed as Emma handed Henry off to him, easily tucking him up against his side. Henry buried his face against Killian’s shoulder, wrapping his arms fiercely around his neck. “It’s okay, Henry.” Killian’s concerned blue eyes turned on Emma.

She shrugged. “He hadn’t seen you.”

“Oh,” Killian soothed, bringing his hand up to rest in Henry’s hair. “Oh, lad…” He carried him over to the table and tried to set him down on top of it. Emma moved with the pair, bending over to right the chair Killian had knocked over.

Henry whined and cried, refusing to be separated from Killian.

“Hey, Henry, I’m okay.” Killian whispered gently, turning to rest against the edge of the table when it was obvious Henry wasn’t budging. “You saw me at the house before we came here, remember? I’m okay. Everyone’s okay.”

Henry finally released his hold enough to pull back and stare at him. The tears were still flowing freely. “Otay?”

“Aye, little lad.” Liam came around the end of the table and smiled at the toddler over Killian’s shoulder. “Nothing’s changed. We’re all still perfectly okay.” He made sure to keep his fresh wound out of Henry’s line of sight.

Henry sniffled and look to Emma. She nodded and reached out to rest her hand on his back. “Yeah, kid. Everything’s okay.” She turned and shared a look between Killian and Liam, all three of them knowing that wasn’t really the case at all. But a little lie for the sake of her son’s sanity was worth it, and the Jones brothers seemed to agree.

Wiping at his nose, the tears finally slowing to a stop, Henry turned his attention back on Killian.

“Better now?” He asked and the little boy nodded. Killian smiled at the response and leaned into press a kiss to his forehead. “Now is it okay if I hand you off to Uncle Liam so I can give your mum a big hug and a smooch?”

Henry giggled and nodded again.

Killian turned and handed Henry off to his brother, whose fatherly instinct kicked in immediately. He started talking quietly to the boy, carrying him towards the still open doorway, stepping just outside and giving Killian and Emma a little bit of privacy.

Turning back to one another once Liam was out of the room, both shared a relieved look.

“Come ‘ere,” Killian sighed, drawing Emma between his legs and wrapping his arms around her waist completely. He rested his head against her chest, breathing in her scent deeply.

Emma simply allowed herself to be held. She could fully understand just how her son had likely been feeling until Killian had gathered him into his arms. It was true that they knew that neither had been hurt in the shooting at Liam’s house. That they had been glued to each other’s sides, Henry being passed between them, until David had marched them into the station and separated them out of some bullshit ‘safety’ excuse. But being apart from him, with everything so chaotic and uncertain, had only made things feel more intense.

Just being in Killian’s presence made everything seem a little less bad. Even if it was only for a moment.

And a moment, it seemed, was all they would be getting. For just as Emma started to feel the tension start to uncoil inside her, Graham’s baffled exclamation of ‘what the hell?’ out in the bullpen was quickly followed by the harsh fluorescent light above their head going dark.

“What the hell?” Emma repeated Graham’s words, looking up at the darkened bulb as Killian pushed up from the table, pulling his phone from his back pocket and opening up the flashlight app. Glancing towards the open doorway as Killian stepped past her towards it confirmed that the lights outside of the interrogation room had also gone out.

“Liam?” Killian questioned while Emma followed after him towards the door.

Liam was moving back into the room. “Something happened with Graham’s computer, then the lights went out.” He held Henry out towards Emma.

She took him back easily, even as he squirmed uneasily against her at the sudden darkness surrounding them. “What does it mean?”

“Nothing good.” Killian answered immediately, eyes following Liam as his older brother moved back out into the bullpen with purpose, making his way to Graham. Killian then turned towards her. “Stay here?” He asked as he passed his phone into her hand. Emma nodded her head. He turned and made his way over to Liam and Graham, while Emma went to set Henry in the chair Killian had knocked over earlier.

“Mama, otay?” He whispered.

Emma knelt d own and rested her hand atop his head. “I don’t know, baby. But I need you stay right here, and stay quiet, okay?”

Henry nodded and Emma stood and moved back to the doorway. She could see Killian and Graham having a heated, whispered discussion by the deputy’s desk where he had a battery-powered lamp now sitting. The only other light in the room was the grey and gloomy daylight filtering through the windows.

After another moment of arguing, it seemed Killian came out on top and Emma could see Graham deflate slightly. Then he was unclipping his pistol from its holster on his belt and handing it off to Killian. Who turned and started making his way back towards Emma as soon as he had the weapon in his hand.

“Take this and stay in this room, okay?” He told her firmly, passing the gun into her hand. She nodded and took the weapon, going through the motions of making sure it was fully loaded. When she had the clip back in place, she looked back to Killian. “I’m gonna give you the keys so you can lock it from the inside, and I don’t want you to open the door unless one of the three of us is on the other side…”

Emma felt her heart rate pick up at his words. “Killian-” Before she could finish, a burst of gunfire exploded through the room, and she watched in horror as Graham collapse to the ground in the barrage. Killian was standing in front of her in the next moment, pushing her back into the room and yanking out the keys she’d left hanging in the door and throwing them to the ground at her feet. Then he was pulling the door shut swiftly and Emma turned around to her son, who was once more in hysterics.

She rushed over to him as the sound of gunfire and yelling came from the other side of the door. She didn’t bother in trying to sooth him just yet, instead taking a moment to shove Killian’s phone into the front of her pajama shorts so the flashlight could still shine out. Then she was pulling Henry up against her side with one arm while keeping the pistol aimed down at the ground in her other hand.

Emma carried him over to the corner of the room farthest from the door and slid down against the wall. She tucked her knees up, pulling Killian’s phone from her shorts and letting it rest flashlight up on the floor. She settled Henry into her lap as best she could after that. He continued to cry, burying his face against her neck, and she really couldn’t find any words to comfort him. All she could do was rub his back with her free hand while the other held the pistol out in the direction of the door.

\-----

Killian was crouched down as bullets continued to fly past overhead, his hand pressed over Graham’s against the bullet wound gushing blood from the side of the deputy’s neck. Liam had pulled the spare pistol and ammo from Graham’s desk drawer when the gunfire had started and was trying his best to take shots when he could at whoever was once again trying to kill them.

Graham opened his mouth to say something, but blood gurgled out with the effort.

“Hey, easy,” Killian pressed harder at his neck as even more blood seeped past their fingers from the deputy’s attempt to talk.

Blinking sluggishly, Graham lifted and pointed with his free hand to something behind Killian. With a frown, Killian looked over his shoulder towards what Graham could possibly want him to see. In the light from the windows, he could make out the open doorway to David’s office. He tried to rack his brain for what could possibly be in there, trying to pull up every memory he had of being in the office over the years. It suddenly struck him that David’s father used to have gun locker tucked up beside the desk where a file cabinet was supposed to be. Eyes wide, Killian looked back to Graham who gave a minute nod of his head.

“Key,” He whispered and coughed up more blood. “Desk drawer.” He used his free hand to unclip the flashlight from his belt. He held it up to Killian.

Killian licked his lips and looked from Graham to the office and back. Graham’s gave him an imploring look and Killian finally nodded his head, taking the flashlight.

“Okay,” He sucked in a deep breath and pulled his hand away from Graham. The deputy winced and Killian almost went right back to where he was when more blood poured over Graham’s hand, but Graham waved him off weakly with his free hand, managing to point once more towards David’s office. Killian gave the deputy one last apologetic look before turning on his heels and shuffling towards the edge of Graham’s desk.

“What the hell are you doing?” Liam whispered harshly as he reloaded the pistol. The sounds of gunfire ceased momentarily as it seemed the men across the way also needed to reload.

Killian knew this was his window. He stretched his neck to right, flicking the flashlight to life, and then let out a gush of air. “Something stupid.” He replied to his brother before he rose up and darted across the bullpen towards the open office door. Liam called out to him harshly and shouts came from the direction of their attackers. He just managed to make it past the edge of the doorway when bullets peppered the wooden door.

Rushing around the desk, Killian placed the flashlight in his mouth and yanked open the middle drawer. He glanced up briefly at the doorway as the gunfire continued, their assailants alternating between firing at Liam, then at the office. Then he was back to looking through the drawer. He tore through it until, tucked under a stack of post-its, was the key he was looking for.

Turning to his left, he unlocked the gun safe with a surprisingly steady hand and yanked the door open. He almost cried out in relief at the sight of a semi-automatic rifle and ammo resting inside. Setting the flashlight on the ground, Killian reached for the rifle and one of the magazines. He quickly adjusted the gun and slammed the ammo into place.

“Killian!” Liam frantic shout from out in the bullpen had Killian rising to his feet. He flicked the gun’s safety off and stalked his way back around the desk. As he came around into the doorway, he could see one of their attackers making is way up on where Liam was still crouched. Without hesitation, Killian rested his finger against the rifle’s trigger and blasted the man. He then stepped further out into the bullpen and turned the rifle on two more caught off guard.

But the last guy had moved up on Killian’s position while he’d been inside the office and managed to pop off a couple rounds from behind a desk a couple feet away. One of them struck Killian in the leg, sending him to the floor with a shout, the rifle clattering to the floor with him. He bent over to grab for it again, but stopped as the end of a pistol pressed into the back of his head.

“I don’t think so, Captain…”

Killian looked up. The man holding a gun on him was one of the three he remembered David interrogating him about some time back. One of the men who belonged to Blackbeard’s M.C..

“Not so tough now without your crew to protect you, huh?” The man laughed.

“Least I don’t still look like hammered shit after getting my face beat in for being incompetent.”

Killian earned a hard hit to the face for the remark, and he turned his head and spit blood to the floor as Liam shouted at the man to stop and take it out on him instead. He then found himself being yanked up by his hair, yelping as coming to his feet put pressure on his wounded leg. He was dragged the distance over to Liam, then the man was throwing him roughly to his knees.

“That’s the plan, _Admiral_ ,” Blackbeard’s man sneered towards Liam, stepping to Killian’s side and pressing the pistol against his head again. “See, everyone knows you’re just the pretty talking front man of your club. That the Rapscallions backbone is its Captain. That the one sure way to take you and your whole crew down is by killing your favorite little brother.”

“Takes all this effort just to kill me?” Killian laughed, even as Liam was looking at him helplessly.

The pistol was shoved deeper into his temple and he shouted in pain as the man pressed his foot down on his bleeding leg. “You’re at the heart of everything in this town and with you gone, the power the club has over Storybrooke crumbles. And then Queen Anne’s Crew can finally have it’s-”

A single shot rang out through the station and Killian barely had a chance to fling himself back as the man collapsed forward, blood pooling out on the tile floor underneath his blown open skull. Killian stared in shock at the suddenly dead man before looking across the room. Liam rose up from the desk to glance in the same direction.

“Bloody wanker talked too much.” Robin called out loudly, lowering his favorite sniper rifle from where it was perched against his shoulder.

\-----

Emma paused in wrapping gauze around Killian’s leg as he winced for what felt like the dozenth time in just as many minutes. She looked up at him perched on the end of the mahogany table in the center of the clubhouse meeting room. Pain etched his forehead into a frown and Emma gave a shake of her head as she resumed bandaging him up.

“You should’ve taken the morphine from Whale.” She sighed in mild exasperation as she secured the dressing closed with a piece of tape.

“I’m fine.” He muttered as as he hopped off the table while Emma busied herself with pick up the remnants of her first aiding. Killian grunted in pain as he added weight back to his injured leg, ignoring the way Emma glared at him as he limped past her and over to the chair designated for Vice President. He lowered himself into it and dropped his head into his hand tiredly.

Emma moved after him quickly, first aid supplies in her arms. “You’re not fine, Killian.” She argued, exhaustion and anger making her voice shake. “You were shot.” She stepped in from of him and chucked the stuff in her arms to the table. Killian looked up at her as she continued. “You were _seconds_ away from being _executed_ in my own brother’s police station. The same police station where Graham just-” She choked as the words got stuck in her throat, bubbling up into a sob before she could stop herself.

Up from his chair lightning fast even knowing the pain it would cause him, Killian pulled her against his chest and held her as the events of the past few hours finally caught up to her. “I know, my love.” He whispered into her hair as she cried against him, fingers clinging desperately to the back of his cut. “I’m sorry. I wish I could somehow make this easier for you.”

“You can stop saying you’re fine for a start.” Emma pulled back, gazing at him intently.

Despite it all, Killian let out a sharp laugh at the scolding look in her green eyes. “Okay, I’m not fine.” He admitted, dropping back down into his chair and pulling her to follow him as he went. Emma shifted so she could perch on the top of his good leg. His other he stretched out before him with wince. “I’m exhausted, I’m hurting…” He looked up at her. “I’m angry. So _bloody_ angry over what’s happening and knowing in my heart that if only I’d done a better job convincing Liam something was wrong-”

Emma brushed the back of her fingers along the length of his jaw. “You couldn’t have known it would be this bad.”

Reaching up, he pulled her fingers from his face and held them tightly. “Emma, I could feel something building. With Isaac, with Neal…” He dropped her hand and held his out towards the covered window. “Hell, the fact that Gold had singlehandedly had every computer in the Sheriff’s station replaced… Ariel pulled the records. She pulled _everything_ , and I sat on all of it, waiting until I had _just_ the right thing to throw an ‘I told you so’ back in my brother’s face…”

“Maybe if your brother hadn’t been such a stubborn ass…”

They looked up as Liam stepped through the doorway. He looked about as bad as they did, though there was an added weight of guilt that seemed to be hanging down over his shoulders in a way only one truly in charge would have. He continued into the room, the other members of the club following in after him. Liam stopped at the head of the table, nodding at Killian, who nodded back in kind. They’d already had their emotional moment back at the station, prior to David returning to find the carnage that had been left behind while he’d tried to put together details of the shooting at Liam’s house.

“Where’s my brother?” Emma asked as she recalled how livid David had been when she said she was taking Henry someplace he could actually be protected. She had initially figured that meant the clubhouse, but Brennan Jones had been there waiting to take Henry with him up to the club’s secluded cabin in the woods where Elsa and her and Liam’s children had gone to stay.

“Still dealing with the fallout from what happened at the station.” Liam sighed as he dropped into his chair. The other members took their seats as well, settling in for the discussion of how they were going to handle the mess that had tore up Storybrooke overnight.

“I can’t believe Graham is gone.” Ariel mumbled quietly. “He wasn’t even a bad guy. Just always did his job so well.”

“That’s the problem…” Killian muttered as he shifted both he and Emma so they both could see them all. “He was a _good_ guy who did his job. There’s no way he could’ve been bought by anyone. He was an easy target for the Queen Anne crew.”

“But how did they know that?” Robin asked, sitting forward and tapping the side of his hand against the table. “We’ve been keeping Blackbeard and his men out of Storybrooke for nearly thirty years… longer than some of us have even been patched in. How did _they_ know about Graham?”

“They were in the system, remember?” Will added where he was sitting stiffly in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “Bloody lot of ‘em likely had deets on all of us.”

“They couldn’t have known Graham couldn’t be bought by anything in the Sheriff’s computer system.” Ariel countered with a shake of her head. “And like most of this town, the idea of social media didn’t even seem to cross his mind.”

Merlin sat forward now, lacing his fingers together and placing his hands on the table. “They had someone on the inside.”

“August.” Emma whispered and all eyes turned towards her. She blinked and looked between them all before looking down to Killian. He gave her an encouraging nod. She straightened and forced herself to speak louder. “August wasn’t at the station this morning. He wasn’t at Liam’s house either. David said something about him calling in sick…” She closed her eyes, hating what she was gonna say next. “And he had connections back to Neal when we were in school.”

“According to the Admiral,” Will finally sat forward, a glare trained on Emma. “He wasn’t the only one to have a nice cosy past with Cassidy…”

Killian’s attention snapped to his fellow Rapscallion, his blue eyes going cold as ice as he stared the man down. “You better choose your words _really_ bloody carefully, Scarlet.”

Unlike almost every time in the past, Will didn’t seem to care to take too much heed in that moment. “Nah, Cap. Just because she’s your long time sweetie doesn’t give her a free pass this time.” He rose up from his chair, palms flat on the table. “You think it’s some bloody coincidence that she finds her way home, and back into your bed, right around the time things start _really_ going to shit around here?”

Killian gently started to move Emma off his lap before he shot up from his chair in a rage, but Liam beat him to it by standing first.

“Sit down, Will.”

Holding out his hand in Emma and Killian’s direction, Will turned an incredulous look on Liam. “Admiral, you’re really gonna fucking believe that she’s got nothing to do with this?!”

“I said _sit down_ ,” Liam roared. “Or I’ll bloody _make_ you sit down!”

The room went deathly quiet as Will lowered himself back into his chair, face red with shame. All eyes were on Liam as he continued to stand. He pulled in a deep breath, gaze on the Rapscallion insignia carved into the wood. Then they shifted up to look directly at Emma.

“I don’t believe she has nothing to do with this.”

Emma felt like she was gonna faint as Killian tensed underneath her and shifted her closer to him.

“Brother?” Killian whispered to Liam in a tone that sounded like he’d shot him himself.

Liam held up his hand, waving it a little, in Killian’s direction. “I don’t mean in the way you think,” He sent a glare Will’s way. “Certainly not like Scarlet’s implying.” Liam dropped his hand and he looked back to Killian, who had relaxed slightly. “But you heard what Blackbeard’s man was saying to us. They’ve been working to tear this club asunder…”

His gaze found Emma’s once more. “For some time, I think.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, mumbled out an ‘oh god’ at the same time Killian muttered a ‘bloody hell’ behind her.

“This isn’t just about Boston, is it?” Robin asked quietly.

Emma looked at him and shrugged sadly. “My dad.”

Liam briefly went over the details of Robert Nolan’s death, and how Killian had been brought into the club. As she looked around the table to gauge reactions, she could see who had known the full truth about what had happened to her father and who hadn’t. Robin sat back in his chair, the concerned frown on his face deepening. Merlin also didn’t seem put off by the information. Will looked as if he was finally filling in a missing piece of an old puzzle, and Ariel’s eyes were wide as saucers as she kept glancing from Liam, to Killian and Emma, and back.

As Liam was nearing the end of how Robert’s end had come about, she felt Killian tense underneath her once more. He nudged her again to move from his lap and this time, he did shoot up from his chair.

“Fuck,” He gasped loudly as he went, digging around in his back pocket. Emma watched as his hand shook as he pulled his phone out and tried to unlock it.

“Killian, what is it?” Liam stepped over to his brother.

Killian looked up between Emma and Liam frantically. “David...”

Emma felt like her heart was plummeting into her stomach as she immediately picked up on what he was implying. She dropped down on to the table, feeling the tears start to come unchecked as Killian explained what she had already figured out.

\-----

The pain in Killian’s leg flared up harshly as he tore down the familiar dirt road that he hadn’t been on in almost a decade. He didn’t pay too much mind to it as he pressed his leg in tighter against his brother’s bike, ducking his head down against the wind as the Nolan farmhouse began to loom in the distance.

Anger and guilt mingled together in his gut as four figures started to take shape in the expanse of grass just off the porch steps, David’s truck idling with the door open a few feet from them. Killian should’ve seen it coming - Graham wasn’t the only cop in town who simply couldn’t be _bought._ And Graham wasn’t the cop with a long and well-documented town history with the club. Namely with Killian Jones.

The rage-induced, instinctive decision he’d made all those years ago to keep his best friend safe suddenly felt like a massive failure. In fact, as he rolled the bike to a stop a short distance away from the group of men, David lying on the ground in obvious distress, Killian felt like that decade-old choice was the very reason they were all currently in the place they were.

“Ah, the would be king!” Neal Cassidy grinned, giving a mocking bow towards Killian. He was flanked by two familiar outlaw faces. One, to Killian’s mild surprise, was the V.P. of the Queen Anne crew, John Silver. He had been sure Blackbeard himself would want to be around for whatever they had planned for his enemies. The other face wasn’t a shock at all. And that’s who sneered at Cassidy’s comment.

“More like undeserving bastard.” Arthur muttered in Killian’s direction.

Killian couldn’t help himself as he gave his former club brother a dramatic frown. “Aww, I didn’t know dirty rats could get jealous.”

Arthur started to lunge for him. “You fucking-”

Neal stopped him with the hand he was holding an old-fashion looking revolver in. There was something familiar about it to Killian, but he couldn’t place where he had seen it in that moment. “Easy now, buddy.” He lightly tapped the gun against Arthur’s chest. The larger man huffed out an angry snort, but stepped back. “You’ll have your fun in due time, I promise.”

Then Neal’s eyes were back on Killian. “Time for the prodigal sons to talk.” He turned a frown down to David. “Well, two of us at least.”

Killian stepped forward on pure instinct and found the revolver pointed right at him, He held his hands up. With the weapon trained in him, he finally realized where he’d seen it before. It had been a gift Gold had given Robert Nolan the day Killian has murdered him.

Neal laughed. “Oh isn’t this just _poetic_!” He moved closer towards Killian. “The three would be kings of this town coming back together after all this time!”

“Last I checked, your father was still his own king.” Killian responded, tilting his hands slightly and shrugging.

The smile on Neal’s face fell away sharply. “My father?!” He laughed again, but this one was dark and bitter. “My father is far too happy to play the same ring-around-the-rosy with your club, and the sheriff, and fuck his new little whore while my mother rots away up in Elysium because he drove her to drugs.”

“So your Pa’s a prick,” Killian shrugged again. “Doesn’t make him any less in control.”

Neal swung and hit Killian in the face with the butt of the gun, right where Blackbeard’s man had hit him earlier. It sent stars flashing before his eyes and blood gushing into his mouth, but he refused to let the pain send him crashing to the ground. Instead he spit the blood at Neal’s feet and took the enraged glare the man was giving him head on.

“I’m the one who orchestrated all of this!” Neal shouted, holding his arms out wide. “You think it was my father who convinced August to dupe Captain America over there,” He held his arm back in David’s direction. “To update the computer system?! You think it was that complacent old crocodile who turned one of your own brothers against you or made a deal with your M.C.’s biggest rival?!”

Killian’s eyes flickered over Neal’s shoulders between Silver and Arthur.

“You think he had anything to do with duping the idiot Princess of Storybrooke into having his family’s next heir?”

Blue eyes snapped back to brown sharply. “What?” He whispered harshly.

Neal was laughing again gleefully and he did a little dance in excitement. “I know she’s probably told you that I’m Henry’s papa by now…” He nodded when Killian’s nostrils flared at the title he gave himself. “Oh yeah, she definitely told you. Of course she did. She was always good at spilling every secret for you, even with your dick shoved in her mouth. Such a shame, too, that you have always been her choice. She was always the most coveted prize in high school.”

The muscle in Killian’s jaw started to twitch and David weakly started to push himself up. It earned him a kick to his side and he coughed wetly, grasping at his stomach where blood seeped out of the bullet wound there.

Neal seemed even more overjoyed at their reactions.

“Oh, it’s so _delicious_ how you two have always been so protective over Storybrooke’s favorite biker slut.” Neal stepped in close to Killian, his face inches away. “It’s why I knew making her tainted goods would be the extra cherry on top when I took over this town. Remind me again which of our kids she had ripped out of her like the useless bit of garbage we all know it was.”

Killian couldn’t contain his temper any longer and he swung out with a savage yell, managing to send Neal sprawling before Arthur had him tackled to the ground. He attempted to fight his former club member, but quickly found a large knife tucked up under his chin. Arthur had him pinned down with his legs on either side of Killian.

“You are a stupid little shit.” He spat disgustingly.

“Ah, it’s okay man.” Neal was back on his feet and back to laughing. “We both knew that infamous Jones temper could only be caged so long. It’s what brought the idiot out here all on his own to begin with. That false sense of arrogance making him think he could talk or fight his way out of this alone with either of their lives intact.”

Despite the fact that his girlfriend’s brother was likely bleeding out only a couple feet away, and he himself was only moments away from death for the third time that day, Killian laughed. And not a tiny laugh either. It was a full on wave of hysterics that hit him, the sharp edge of the blade against his throat biting into his skin as he did so.

“You really think…” He gasped as Neal and Arthur’s looks grew slightly baffled. “You honestly bloody think I came out here _alone_ to do either of those things?”

Arthur’s eyes went wide as it instantly clicked, the years of being a Rapscallion making him realize what was going on.

He just managed to growl out ‘he’s the fucking bait!’ before a high-pitched zing came through the air, the bullet slamming into his shoulder and having him yell out. Killian took his opportunity and bucked Arthur off of him, causing the other man to fall sideways. He could hear more bullets over the sound of approaching bikes, Neal’s shout now echoing around him, as he landed a punch square to Arthur’s jaw before yanking the knife from his slackening hand.

Killian righted himself and saw Silver escaping his way around the side of the house. Swinging his arm back for moment, Killian let loose the knife in his hand in a powerful throw. It managed to stick his target high in the back, but wasn’t enough to bring Silver down or stop him from escaping into the nearby woods.

Killian started to take off after him, but stopped just a few steps in when David called out to him weakly. He spun on his heels then and made his way towards the fallen Sheriff, dropping to his knees at his side.

“Mary…” David coughed out, one of his blood-coated hands coming up to grasp desperately at Killian cut.

“She’s safe.” Killian reassured him, reaching up to cradle the back of David’s head. He could hear the club starting to pull up, but astutely kept his focus on David. “She made her way to the clubhouse and Emma agreed to stay behind with her. They’re both safe, I promise.”

David nodded and sucked in a wet breath as he closed his eyes. He swallowed and then open his eyes again, trying to sit up a little and turn his head. “They dead?”

Stopping him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, Killian shook his head. “No. Fox was only firing to wound them.” He looked up and saw Liam approaching while Scarlet and Merlin busied themselves with restraining Neal and Arthur. Will didn’t hesitate to get a few swift kicks against Arthur’s middle as he stood over the man. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance down the road.

“The local P.D. and paramedics should be here in a few minutes.” His brother said softly as he came to crouch on the other side of David. He sucked in a sharp breath at the carnage to the Sheriff’s middle. “Bloody hell, David…” He looked up at the incapacitated man. “You might be giving my brother here the run for most reckless behavior.”

“Have you met,” David gasped out a chuckle. “My sister?”

Killian and Liam laughed as his quip, and he tried to as well but ended up coughing harshly, blood trickling past the corner of his lips as he did.

“Alright, easy…” Killian held tight to him as Liam got up to direct the incoming emergency services where to go. “You die on us and she’ll likely kill me alongside you.”

David nodded quietly and then gave Killian and intense, heartbroken look. “Killian…” He whispered, clenching his bloody fingers around Killian’s cut once more. “I’m sorry.”

Tears fell unchallenged down Killian’s cheeks as he brought his hand from David’s shoulder and grasped tightly around the one on his cut. “Aye, me too.” He whispered back with a nod.

\-----

The next two weeks passed in a maddening flurry of cleaning up, fixing, adjusting, and starting the slow process of starting to heal from the damage caused to the club and the town. The first thing Liam and Killian had made sure was settled, once they were sure David wasn’t going to be leaving them, was to get Henry and his nieces and nephews set up with the best therapist they could find. It had taken a lot of convincing, and money, to get Doctor Archie Hopper to relocate to Storybrooke, but once he’d actually had a chance to talk to the kids, they all agreed it was the best decision they could’ve made.

It hadn’t taken too much to get Neal and Arthur situated up in the Elysium penitentiary. Gold had tried to flex all the power he had to keep his son in the local lockup, but the D.A. for the prosecution knew how to work magic in a way even Gold’s team of lawyers couldn’t comprehend. It certainly hadn’t hurt that Regina Mills had a thing for bikers with fox tattoos. When she shamelessly made her way out of Robin’s room the morning after successfully getting Neal and Arthur locked away, none of the club batted an eyelash.

Club business also hadn’t taken too long to get back into working order. Liam still seemed to have a hard time accepting Arthur had betrayed them, but hadn’t questioned fully patching the youngest Jones into the fold to take his place. Queen Anne’s crew, following the showdown at the Nolan farm, seemed to disappear into nothingness afterward, but it was quietly agreed among the Rapscallions that it likely wasn’t the last they’d seen of them. They would only lick their wounds for so long. Especially once Blackbeard’s long-dead body was discovered washed up on shore just days after Silver had escaped.

Graham’s funeral had, unsurprisingly, been the hardest part to stomach so far in what was being thrown around town as the ‘new’ Storybrooke. Neither Killian or Emma had shown up all that sober on that quiet morning they laid him to rest, and the rest of the day was honestly a blur neither could really recall. There had been some flashes of Liam helping Killian down the hallway of his home on the coast with Emma slumped against Elsa just behind them, but that was about it.

Though, as quickly as things were stirred up, it all seemed to settle just as fast.

And yet there was still one thing, in all of the fixing, that Killian still really hadn’t mended properly.

Which was how he now found himself standing nervously outside of David’s hospital room.

“You look like you’re gonna puke.”

He laughed softly, anxiously, at Emma’s observation. “Yeah, well…” He gave her a helpless look. “I just might before this whole thing is done.” Reaching into his back pocket, he extracted the flask he’d tucked in there that morning. Killian took a small slug from it.

Emma reached out and took it from him, shoving it into her bra. “That’s not helping.”

“You really think putting it there is gonna stop me from reaching for it?” Killian licked his lips, stepping into her space and placing his right hand on her hip. “And here I thought you knew me better than that, love.”

She slapped at him as he started to reach his left hand up and into her shirt. “Stop stalling,” She pointed at him as he deflated slightly. “And maybe I’ll let you plunder my goodies later, pirate.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow, feeling some of his bravado bounce right back to life. “Did you just bribe me with sex?” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “What would your brother say?”

Placing a hand on over his mouth as he leaned in to kiss her, Emma gave him a patient look. “You’ll only know if you actually go in there and talk to him.”

He stared at her for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He mumbled into her hand before licking at it with his tongue. She made a mock-disgusted face and wiped her hand on the side of her jeans. “Lead the way, love.” Killian jerked his head towards the door to their right.

Emma rolled her eyes this time, but still proceeded to pulled out of his embrace and push open the door to her brother’s room. “Hey!” She called warmly and David replied in the same tone from within the room. Killian paused a moment, pulling in a deep breath and wishing his girlfriend hadn’t swiped his rum, before hesitantly stepping in after her.

“So where’s- oh, there you are.” David smiled dopily from where he was propped up in his bed. Emma had taken up the chair setup beside him and was already fiddling with the blanket draped over his legs.

Stepping over to the foot of the bed. “Aye,” Killian mumbled awkwardly as he reached down to grasp at the end rail, his rings tapping nervously at the plastic. “Here I am.”

David snorted, sharing a look with Emma. “He looks like he’s gonna puke.”

Emma smirked and shared a wink with Killian, who rolled his eyes. It caused David to snort again and shake his head.

“God, it’s kinda funny when I’m the one who’s high and you’re not.” He added as he rested his head back against his pillow. He continued to smile at Killian.

“They have you on some good stuff, then?” Killian asked by way of inquiring how David was doing.

David snorted for a third time. “Ah, yeah. I’m good. _Really_ good, actually. I honestly didn’t know Whale was so capable of such decent patient service.”

“Yeah, well…” Killian shrugged a shoulder and gave a small shake of his head. “When you pay him good money, he really puts forth the best quality of care.”

Nodding, David looked lazily to the still open door. “I did notice I was getting the round the clock Rapscallion V.I.P. treatment.” They all knew he was referring to revolving roster of club members who had been constantly posted outside his room since he’d been brought to the hospital. His hazy blue eyes found Killian’s again after a moment. “Thank you.”

Killian shrugged again. “You deserve it.”

Brow scrunching up, David tilted his head slightly. “Do I though?” He mused. “I have been _absolutely fucking horrible_ ,” He looked from Killian to Emma. “To both of you. For so long.”

Emma reached up and placed a gentle hand over her brother’s. “Hey,” She soothed. “We both agreed that’s a talk we’ll have when you’re out of here.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t feel horrible about what I said to you.” David mumbled to her, tears shining in his eyes. “Or all the things I’ve done to you, Killian…” He glanced back at the outlaw sadly. “There’s _so_ many damn things I’ve thought about stuck in this bed and I regret…” He closed his eyes, the tears slipping free when he dropped his head and gave it a slight shake. “So much.”

“David,” Killian moved around the side of the bed opposite from Emma and fell into the chair there. He mirrored her actions, reaching up and placing his hand over David’s. “Believe me…” When David finally looked at him, Killian frowned guiltily. “You’re not the only one to blame here. What I’ve done…” He paused and looked to Emma, who gave him a nod of encouragement through her own tears.

The feeling of David turning his hand in Killian’s and giving it a light squeeze had Killian looking down to them before back up to his old friend.

“Tell me?” David asked quietly.

Killian licked his lips, straightening in his chair but still keeping his hold on David. He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath.

“The night your father died…”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end. Thank you so much to everyone who has shown love and support to this story. I am so grateful to you all and I hope I didn't disappoint. This was my first major Captain Swan story and it means a lot that people were into it and enjoying it!
> 
> And of course thank you to everybody at Captain Swan Big Bang for helping make all this possible for the fandom!

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

Emma rolled her eyes and nudged at her brother’s side with the arm squished between their two bodies. It had been a question he’d repeatedly asked her since he’d first brought up the rather unconventional idea.

“Like I’ve told you a million times already, big brother…” She sighed and glanced to her right to give him a slightly impatient look before returning her attention to what loomed before them. “We may have lived here, but…” Emma frowned and shook her head slightly. “This place was never my home.”

Her attention drifted off to the side, where Killian was standing with Robin and Will. His messy hair was even messier than usual from where he had been running his hand through it. She giggled as he snatched at the cigarette Scarlet had just lit, watching as he turned and chucked it a good distance before scolding at his fellow Rapscallion.

“Not really.” Emma finally added to the end of her thought as she observed the man she loved give a very Vice President-like dressing down to Will. 

David sighed dramatically, though she knew it was mostly for show than anything else. “Yeah, I know.” His attention had also shifted over the Killian and the others, and he slowly looked back to their childhood home. “It’s just…” He sighed again, this time for wistfully. “We had a lot of good times here.”

Shifting under his arm draped over her shoulder, Emma lightly patted as his stomach. “And some a lot of not so good ones.” She said pointedly and he nodded reluctantly when he glanced at her for a moment. “David, if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.” 

“I know that too.” He nodded again. “It just doesn’t feel right to have a fresh start,” His eyes shifted over to Killian, then back to the house. “And leave this place with all its demons untouched.”

“I really don’t feel like having demons touch our child, David.” Mary Margaret said firmly, even as she smiled slightly while pressing herself against David’s other side. She had just wandered her way over from where she had been chatting with Elsa and Liam about their nine month old. She leaned forward so she could see Emma around her husband. “He getting nostalgic again?”

Emma shrugged. “You know my brother.”

Mary Margaret’s smile softened as she looked up at David. “Big sentimental softie.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek as he blushed. Shouting from a few feet away drew all three’s attention over to where Killian was fast approaching, an annoyed looking Will being held back by a grinning Robin. “Might want to make a decision soon, honey. The natives are restless.”

“Mate, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep that idiot from his whiskey or lighting something on fire.” Killian grumbled as he stopped in front of the trio. He gave an imploring look to David. “The faster he does the latter, the sooner he gets to the former and the less of a pain in the ass he’ll be for me.”

David sighed dramatically again and gave a nod of his head. “Okay, yeah…” He stepped away from Emma and Mary Margaret, patting Killian on the shoulder as he moved by. “Scarlet, you ready to burn this fucker down?”

“Hell yeah!” Will whooped, jumping away from the hold Robin still had on him. “Bout fuckin’ time!”

As everybody else moved into place, either to help with the ‘house burning’ or to watch from a distance, Emma found herself wrapped up in Killian’s arms as he moved to stand behind her. 

“They’re all bloody crazy.” He grumbled good-naturedly into her shoulder, placing a kiss there before he rested his chin a top it. 

Emma smiled, rocking slightly from side to side. “And you love it.”

“Aye,” He sighed before turning her in his arms so he could look down at her affectionately. “But not as much as I love you.”

She grinned and leaned up on her toes to kiss him soundly on the lips.

A groan came from her left and they broke apart to see Liam walking up to them. “What we’re already doing is highly illegal.” He playfully nudged a bit of space between them. “We don’t need you two having sex in public to make it worse.”

Killian frowned thoughtfully. “Is it illegal when it’s the Sheriff’s idea?”

“It is when said Sheriff doesn’t file the right permits or alert the fire department it’s gonna happen.” Liam shrugged nonchalantly as he turned to take in the handiwork of his club. 

“You’re awfully chummy with that sheriff, Admiral.” Emma teased.

It earned an eye roll from Liam. “Welcome to ‘new’ Storybrooke, lass.” He patted Killian on the back, starting to head in the direction of the house that already had flames licking their way across its porch. But he stopped to point at the two of them. “Try not to knock her up again when no one’s watching. Chummy may only go so far.”

Emma turned back around so she could rest against Killian’s chest. She waited until Liam was well out of earshot and everyone was fully distracted or entranced by the burning house before responding to Liam’s playful warning. 

“How do we tell him it’s a bit late for that?” She whispered. 

Killian snorted, bringing his hand up to rest over her stomach. “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey with his name on it.”

“Killy, Killy, Killy!” Henry suddenly came charging over from where he’d been playing with Killian’s nephews, barreling into his legs. 

Letting go of Emma, Killian turned and squatted down to Henry’s eye level. “What is it lad?”

Henry’s eyes were wide and excited. “Bren doesn’t belieb you got my name on you!” He reached up and started to tug on one of Killian’s hands. “Come show him!” 

Killian started to let himself be dragged away, throwing a wink and grin to Emma as he went. She smiled fondly as he scooped up her son and carried him, giggling, over to the rest of his family. She felt the same flutter in her chest she’d had when he first asked her about getting the new tattoo as she watched him pull down the collar of his shirt for his nephews, showing the word ‘Henry’ inked across the upper left side of his chest. Right over his heart. 

She rested her hand on her stomach, and sighed happily, looking around at the club gathered in her childhood yard. She laughed in mild surprise as she saw David coughing out smoke from the joint he’d taken from Merlin. Smiled warmly when she saw her sister-in-law talking animatedly with Ariel and Elsa about something or other. Snorted and shook her head at how Will was pestering Regina, who stood tall and proud in her stilettos she firmly refused to take off for the occasion.

Then her eyes found Killian again. Her son had run off to play with Liam and Elsa’s children once more, and he was standing back at his full height, watching her with such a look of adoration that her heart fluttered again. Then his look shifted, a wicked grin spreading his stubbled cheeks. She tilted her head in wonder and he jerked his chin towards something behind her. Emma turned and saw his bike sitting not too far away, sitting as if waiting to go for a joy ride.

When she looked back around with her eyebrows raised, he quirked one of his own up in a mix of a question and a challenge.

Emma grinned and slowly started to step backwards to the bike, Killian throwing a playful swagger to his step as he followed after her.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions or comments, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://pirateherokillian.tumblr.com/ask) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/pirateherojones)!


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